


Fathoming You

by JValentine0



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Reality, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 152,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JValentine0/pseuds/JValentine0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate is cruel to those who challenge the yolk of enslavement to her wheel. Sadly those who challenge it only realize such when the one they cherished above all others lay dead in their arms. What a waste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him." –Fyodor Dostoyevsky_

"Fathoming You"

Prologue

_1996_

The quiet and sleepy Raccoon City was just a typical town, full of the usual suspects for petty crime and the occasional armed robbery. Lest we forget, the good people who slaved away, blue collar and all, who were the very blood and backbone of this place. The streets were clean, lawns mowed, and cheerful gestures given in passing. The only real excitement would be the Fourth of July celebration. The city was never one to be ridden with scandal or news beyond the mayor getting his hand caught in the church till to pay off the transvestite prostitute he mistook to be a woman..

The city thrived, despite poor choices by its political leadership. The Umbrella Corporation kept the economy flowing to the point that other towns looked on in envy at the diamond that was Raccoon City. Chief Irons and his police force kept the peace. A special task force, S.T.A.R.S. was formed within the police department, which served to protect the city and keep trouble from spilling into it from the mountains surrounding the proverbial 'Pleasantville'. Not many knew of all the deeds those brave souls performed over the years, though they maintained their quiet vigil without desire for praise or thanks. Duty, bound these men and women.

Sadly, in a few years from this present time, the city would be wiped off the map. What a waste... May God have mercy on those responsible for their greed and selfishness as the memory of this city travels further and further into the back of the public's mind.

' _What remains when we die?'_

In Denver, a place that luckily would escape such a horrid fate, is where our story really begins. The infamous Dick Valentine was recently arrested on charges for theft-what a surprise… His only phone call to be made would be chosen with the intentions to not save his own hide. No, the chase was finally over for Dick. There wasn't a defense attorney within one-hundred miles that would represent him at this point, not without being selected by the state. Such thoughts swam through the fifty year old man's mind as he strode alongside the two guards appointed to escort him to the telephones. The orange jumpsuit stood out against his pale flesh and graying hair, hanging from the thief's body more like a bed sheet than a jumpsuit. The shackles, as he knew them, made their soft clanking sound with each step taken. It felt like an eternity before they reached the end of the cellblock, with all of the catcalling and yelling from various criminals. The taller guard unlocked the door before them, and Dick step through into the chill air-conditioning.

Approaching the phone, he awkwardly lifted it from the cradle and began to dial. Sighing deeply, he waited patiently for a pickup on the other end of the line. _'Please be there.'_ He thought, crow's foot adorned eyes shutting weakly as each second passed and drew closer to no answer. Finally, someone picked up and a familiar voice chimed on the other end.

"Wesker."

A tired grin formed on the man's chapped lips, steel gray eyes opening. "It's been a long time, Albert… It's Dick."

Silence on the other end, and then a sigh. The sounds of swift movement are followed by an unmistakable slamming of a door. "You're supposed to call John if you needed work, Dick." The sentence was laced with ice and anger. Typical Wesker reaction to anything out of place.

"I… I know, Albert…" Dick said with a sigh, pausing. "I just didn't know who to call. I'm back in prison again."

More footsteps, and finally the sound of another door opening. Traffic filled Dick's ear, as he realized that the other man was outside. Probably was a bad idea to call a cop for help, but he was desperate. "Can't help you there, but I ca-.. How did you even get my cell number? "

"I'm Dick Valentine: I can get anything!" The older man chuckled a bit, though became somber rather quickly. "No, I didn't call for you to bail me out… It's my daughter that I'm concerned about. I won't be weaseling my way out of this one… I want her to have a good life." His voice finally cracked, a rugged palm rising to smooth the hairs upon the top of his head. Nervous foible the old man would have until his last breath. "I thought I could do that for her, but I messed up. I finished this last job, but I'm not leaving prison this time. Guess when these idiots needed a fall man, I became their guy."

Another sigh, muffled sounds of entering a vehicle follow after. "And where exactly do I fall into this?"

"I need her out of Denver… I'm sure my indictment will mean the end of being with my daughter. Not without bars between us." A cough suddenly overtook the aging man.

"Why hasn't Denver PD picked her up yet if you're so concerned?" The voice on the other end asked, echoes of an engine starting easily heard.

"I talked to one of them; they're supposedly going to go check on her in the morning. I told them she was in danger but they think I'm lying. I think there are more than just a few in Arvada's pockets. Please, Albert… Just get her out of here." Rambling now, desperation was mounting.

"Considering what I owe you… I will." A pause on the other end. "Does she know?" Albert asked, throwing the shifter into reverse as he backed out of the parking lot.

It was time for Dick to pause, and with a sad sigh he replied. "No, she doesn't. Never want her to know." Too much to digest, and it filtered through every note in his voice.

Clicking the turn signal for left, Wesker gazed out to the cloud formations beginning to dominate the sky. It would be raining soon. "I'm heading that way now. I'll need her phone number." Finally turning left, he sped on past the RPD, leaving a tubby and confused Chief Irons only able to scratch his head and munch on his Twinkie in confusion as to why the captain was taking off long before quittin' time.

"Eh.. It's the usual Denver code... and eh.. Five, five, five, four, seven, three, one. You lived only about four miles from us at that time. It's the same code as then."

"You don't remember it." Deadpan tones.

"Well… Don't use the house phone much. Jill usually does that." Dick said with a shrug out of habit.

Ah, Jill Valentine… She was just a teenager when Wesker had first met her. She probably was a lost soul by now, like every other young woman in this world who isn't pregnant or snorting cocaine before thirty. Albert was not entirely fond of this… but it was better to tie up loose ends for the sake of Umbrella and himself. Dick was quite the thief and had put himself in a unique position: a position where Wesker owed him more than the lion's share and then some. In Dick's terms, this was a settlement and it was a shame to see the old man fold to save his child from thugs and their promises of money that didn't exist. The blonde wouldn't complain, though pondered the idea of drugging himself with ether every time this girl possibly would want to talk about…anything.

"I'll be there in five hours. Arrangements will have to be made to handle moving her things in the coming weeks." Another stop made, red light.

A sigh of relief washed over Dick's end of the line, the old man smiling a bit. "You're a good man, Albert. I hope she can get a job at the Umbrella plant or something. Be a secretary, ya know?"

"I might know someone who can give her a job, though we will have to see." Albert replied bluntly, finally tugging his sunglasses off to view the dimming road.

"I'll never be able to repay you for this." Dick uttered, finally hanging up the phone. ' _Tonight, I'll finally be able to get some damn sleep…'_ He thought, as he and the guards made the long trek back to his cell.

Dialing the Valentine residence, an annoyed expression had painted itself over Wesker's features. _'Probably should have left my damn wallet in Raccoon…'_ He thought, grumbling a bit while the phone rang on. No answer, just the machine. "It's going to be a long night." The blonde muttered, closing the phone to focus on driving.


	2. Chapter 2

**_  
_**

_There is a funny thing to be known about time and many neglect it. Time travels in its own patterns and choices, slipping away as the years drag on or fly by until an old man stands before a mirror, wondering what happened. This thought preoccupied a rather bored Albert Wesker as he sped through the dwindling twilight of a Colorado evening. Not in reference to himself, as he was still young enough to have a future. No, this was pertaining to Dick Valentine, who had entrusted him with the protection of his only daughter. Despite the five years that separated Wesker from the day that he originally met the woman, his thoughts wandered back to that December evening in Denver._

_1991_

Umbrella was as much of a cash cow as ever, and it was yet another evening at the Stonebrook Manor for dinner and dancing for possible investors and other wealthy guests. It was just another way for Umbrella to lure more in with a display of luxury few could only dream of. Tuxedos, of course, for such a lavish occasion in celebration of the holidays amid a crowd of snobbish and idiotic individuals… Well that's how Albert viewed them from behind the mask that was his blank expression. No sunglasses to be found, his steel gray eyes were exposed for many women to practically drool over as they passed him on the staircase. Why wouldn’t they? He was a cruelly handsome man, tall with a contradiction of being muscular yet almost lean in form. With sleek blonde hair and a bewitching grin whenever he bothered to show one, he was a fox amid fowl.

He rarely ever did grin. A regular rain cloud in the eyes of most people. Not that he cared. No, these people had more money than brains…

_‘How do I know this? Well, they’re here ready to give their last dime to Spencer in exchange for a chance to share his dream. Let’s start with that.’_

The only reason he had bothered to attend were two reasons: William's promotion and Spencer dispersing idle threats throughout the higher rings of Umbrella for attendance. In other words, bring a gun and expect to use it. ‘ _Joy…'_ the sarcastic thought rang through his mind, accompanied by another long drink of champagne.

"Don't look so squeamish to be here, Wesker. At least the band can carry on a swing tune." The voice of William Birkin caught to the blonde's ears as the gangly looking scientist approached in tux with his wife Annette in tow. Annette was not a terrible looking woman, for someone who slept at the office under a pile of papers with her husband crashed on the floor. The violet evening gown adorning her form did finally show her feminine curves. She was smiling, arm linked with William's, blue eyes peering over Albert with concern. "Where's Cassandra?" She asked.

The topic was dismissed rather quickly with a change of subject. Glass set on the railing of the stairs, Wesker folded his arms and gave the pair a once over look before offering a quick smile, and it was dropped just as swiftly as it formed. "Annette, he doesn't look like Dr. Frankenstein today, what did you do to him?"

The blonde woman laughed, though the questions of the woman that William's friend was to bring still lingered, despite Wesker's efforts to dispel such discussion. "I had to blow up the lab to get him out of it. Still, where's Cassandra?" A smirk formed on the woman's lips as she uttered the question.

"Dumped me, I think she went back to Paris to remain euro trash." He uttered softly, plucking another filled glass from a passing waitress. Polishing it off, his stare returned out to the crowd. "Though, if she was looking for a wealthy husband, she could have found one here. The ratio of ‘stupid trophy wife’ hunters is higher than normal." Words lathered in ice pinged on the air as the blonde man brushed off any other inquiries. Possibly the ones about how he was taking being single once more.

 _‘Cassandra was a warm body. A life support system for a rack and genitals.’_ He internally reminded himself for the hundredth time.

William finally laughed, resting a palm on his long time friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry… I guess you just don't have the smooth moves like I do, Wesker. The ladies love me." Annette rolled her eyes, unlinking her arm from her husband's. "I need to use the ladies room, gentleman and husband-who-will-be-sleeping-on-the-couch."

"Ouch." Wesker grinned as she departed. Annette could always make him grin. She was catty and as devilish as he. They could have passed for siblings.

William, not being one to take that from his wife, made a gesture of a phone with his hand against the side of his face. "Call me! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!" Some heads turned at that and Annette scooted for the women's restroom so much faster; purse shielding her red face and swearing under her breath. "I love her so much."

"You'd better; I don't think another woman exists who can put up with you." The blonde retorted. "At least you and I will have one thing in common this evening, Will."

Head swiveling, the shorter man blinked. "Oh yeah, and that would be?"

"Not going to be getting laid."

A sigh given, William stuffed his hands into his pockets. "We are in the wrong business for that. We should have been spies."

"Indeed…" Albert's gaze set on Ozwell Spencer from across the vast hall with some young woman in tow. Poor girl, she'd probably end up on his staff if she kept hanging all over the old man like they were love birds. Subtle gesture given to William, a snort escaped.

"Oh my…" Will lifted a hand to rummage over the scruff that still clung to his youthful face.

"Oh yes, there he is. Probably should go say 'Hello' before I fall over drunk in the back alley out of boredom."

"Classy, Albert." Birkin snickered, and shrugged. "You can go, he and I aren't talking."

"Honeymoon over already?” The blonde asked. “You haven't even been formally promoted yet."

"I know… He hasn't been too fond of my current research in the past couple weeks. Sleep on the couch more because of him than Annette."

"They're conspiring, William. Drive you mad and run away together after you step out in front of a train." It was more truth than joke in a sense, Spencer was working William for far too many hours and it was showing. Despite that Ozwell E. Spencer was the president of Umbrella, and one of its founders, Wesker had little respect for the man.

He had little respect for mostly everyone, but now you’re just getting down to the brass tacks.

"Planning on it next week," William said, smiling as Annette rejoined the pair. A kiss given to his wife, the scientist smiled. A gentle pat on his shoulder signaled Wesker's departure of the duo. "We'll see you after the ceremony."

_‘It isn’t as though I’m ungrateful for Spencer’s generosity. He took me in. After so many years of watching his lapses in judgment, well…’_

Approaching Ozwell Spencer, Wesker offered up a handshake to the aging man. "Good to see you, Spencer." Albert said, giving a nod to the lady who still seemed to be trying to wrap herself around Spencer tight enough a ring popped on her finger. Red hair, too much eye shadow.

_‘Yikes.’_

"Albert… Good to see you showed up. I trust that Hunk spoke to you already?" Spencer's voice seemed to have aged more than his body as the sound hit the air. The worst part about Ozwell Spencer was that he took self-preservation to a level of lunacy that Albert had only seen in horror flicks and confessions from battered wives who put butcher knives in their husband's hearts. The only difference was that Spencer maintained a façade of complete calm. Unnerving, really.

"Yes, we spoke earlier. I assure you tha-"Cut off.

"Dick? Dick Valentine? Hey! Get over here!" Spencer suddenly pried himself free of the little redhead to stride over to an equally aging man.

 _‘An embrace? Huh…’_ A young girl, eighteen or so followed in suit behind the unknown gentleman. She wore a black cocktail dress, black pumps, no makeup, and her soft caramel hair was tied back with a single silken ribbon. This girl did not appear in the same sect as the rest of the women at the party… she seemed normal. Her light blue hues met his, and then switched to Spencer.

"Dick, this is Albert Wesker, he works in the information gathering and distribution sector." Spencer said while walking back to where the blonde stood.

The older man nodded and smiled, shaking Wesker's hand. "Glad to meet you.  Ozwell told me very little about you but I'm sure we'll get a chance to speak later." A tug on his coat, and he seemed to remember the girl. "And my daughter, Jill, who is as happy as I am to be here." He seemed as though that statement could be true. She didn't. An expression of boredom was smeared over her pale features until she was introduced.

Stepping forward, she gently shook Albert's hand. “Nice to meet you.” Icy blue eyes met his gray and she quickly retracted the palm. Shy. Her pulse had been drumming against his fingertips at her wrist. Shy and nervous. Beautiful…

_‘A little young. My God, are you insane?!’_

"And you as well, Miss Valentine." The blonde replied, face as calm as an undisturbed pond. Her anxious eyes adverted immediately after the velvety tones escaped his lips. He would leave her unscathed for now. The night was still young…"So, you are from the area, Mister Valentine?"

"Oh please, call me 'Dick'. Yes, Jill and I have lived in the area since her mother passed away. Pretty decent area around Parker Avenue, with the schools and the church, I can't complain too much."

"I think you already did, Dad. Kids and evangelists drive you crazy…" A clever little comment made by the young woman, and a smile to match such wit wound up on her face. His trance was over.

"Don't make your old man look much older, Jill…" The grey haired Valentine said, taking a sip from his bourbon. "Damn kids and their skateboards…"

Ozwell snorted a bit. “I’d turn a garden hose on kids if they came near my porch. ‘Course my driveway is two miles long. Hard to reach.”

 Wesker wouldn't put it past him…and the thought of him doing such should have been on company's Christmas card for that year. A soft voice snapped the blonde back to reality, and he blinked. "What?"

Jill smiled a bit, shy as ever. "I asked you if you wanted to dance." Red crept over her face again, as it seemed she had found something that kept her attention in a sea of falsehoods and money. The music had shifted, mellow sounds of piano and violin joining to fill the air. All around them, couples were traversing towards the hardwood floor.

"Yes, take the girl for a dance." Ozwell offered, giving Wesker a clap on the back. "I need to discuss a few things with Dick." That was that, apparently, his choice made for him.

Not that he hadn’t thought about it…

 _‘I hate dancing.’_ He inwardly seethed, polishing off a lute of champagne that he snagged from a server wandering past the four. Sigh contained, he offered an arm to the young woman. "Of course." Wesker allowed a faint smile to slip over his lips as she wound a palm against his bicep and followed beside him to the dance floor. Once there, her palm slipped into his as the other found its way near the nape of his neck. The blonde haired man's own free palm found its way to the small of her back and began to lead.

Jill followed in suit perfectly, accompanying his motions in the dance as they looped around the dance floor. Eye contact was minimal, though she was smiling the entire time. She finally broke the silence after an eternity. "Glad you can dance, I rarely ever like doing it anymore. School dances remind me of robots trying to follow a tune."

Memories of such occasions caused Wesker to laugh and grin. "Ah yes, the tragedy that we all have to go through after wandering across a gym to shyly ask a girl who is a foot taller if she'd like to dance."

"I skipped the last one," she replied, blue irises daring to gaze up to his as she spoke. "I’m never asked as a date and most of my classmates duck out early to get high or drink liquor they stole from their parents. Not exactly what I’d call fun."

"It gets better once you escape to being an actual adult. Graduating soon?" Shifting their direction to avoid crashing into another pair, he moved with ease.

"Already did. I finished early so that I can have some time before starting college." Jill said, her eyes peering to the couple that they nearly bumped into. It was William and Annette.

_‘Oh God…’_

"I love you, Annette! You're as pretty as the day is wide." The slender man said to his wife, who could only sigh at her husband who had apparently hit the bottle since Wesker had left the pair. Despite his drinking, the man could still carry himself to a tune. Maybe he really did have some 'moves'.

Valentine's brows popped, Wesker quickly swept her away as the song carried on. The sounds of "Is that Albert?" "William, shut up!” didn’t seem to invoke the desire to return and converse with the Birkins.

“Do you know them?” Jill asked with a bewildered look on her face at William suddenly going into a bit of ‘disco fever’. Annette abandoned him from the floor with a huff.

Without missing a beat the blonde dipped her with ease, gray eyes keeping her locked in a mental vault. Her grasp was tight, surprise ripped across her expression. “Who?” He asked, one brow lofting higher than the other.

“Um…” Thoughts realigning, pulse now racing. Golden hind caught, legs unable to navigate with an arrow caught between muscles. “I…”

Pearl teeth exposed briefly from behind his lips, Albert raised her back up with ease. Head tipping, he viewed William pulling a John Travolta off the dance floor. “Oh… No, I don’t know them. He looks like a lunatic.”

“At least they’re having fun…” She offered gently, hands looping back to the nape of his neck.

“You’re not? I can dip you again, Miss Valentine.”

Her face burned red. “I’m good.”

The song ending, the crowd gave the band applause, and the two departed from the floor. Dick and Ozwell had vanished, thus leaving the blonde to keep the girl company until the two old men manifested themselves. Silence hugged the air in a vice’s grip until she finally broke the quiet.

"So, you work for Mister Spencer also?" Jill asked, seeming rather interested in making some idle conversation.

"Yes, though I've never met your father before today, Miss Valentine."

"Oh, my father works in accounting for Umbrella here. He also investigates fraud. Always working all night, I rarely see him."

Albert knew exactly who Dick Valentine was and what he did for Spencer. On paper he was an accountant and he had a daughter who was possibly tracking into the business. This girl was possibly far more than what she seemed, an avid pupil to her father’s trade of subtleties. It was likely that she was just as much of an asset to the company. The Valentine family was notorious for their ties to the underworld of modern man.

_‘From what I remember there were nine brothers and all of them were killed except for Dick. Spencer grew up loving spy books, puzzles, or some garbage. He wanted to be part of the NSA. He wasn’t smart enough, and therefore was rejected from working in that agency. So when Dick stole from him and was caught…instead of killing the thief, Spencer kept him alive and offered him work. It had something to do with Trevor…’_

Her story of going to college was possibly a lie, though Wesker wouldn't fault her for it. Umbrella was built on lies and blood money. "I may have met him in passing, but my job requires too much travel to get to know everyone who works in Denver."

"I see…" She uttered, head tilting to view Ozwell and Dick returning. Nervous fingers picked at her nails.

"You kids have fun?" Spencer asked, taking a swig from his glass upon approach. The redheaded girl reappeared and latched herself back to Spencer's hip, giving the old man a peck on the cheek. Jill quirked a brow, quizzled by such a pair.

"Loads." Albert nodded to the older Valentine, arms folding over his chest. "Your daughter dances very well."

"She does. I can't keep up with her since I was born with two left feet." Draping an arm over Jill, Dick smiled at his daughter.

The night drug on, more music and requests to dance from Miss Valentine kept Wesker from being completely bored. Finally, the promotion ceremony and awards were given out. The usual ego strokes to make resumes look less than worthless… William made a complete ass of himself, halfway through his speech beginning to rant about his undying love for Annette and his work for Umbrella. Mrs. Birkin spent most of the speech with her head between her palms.

As usual with these occasions, the board slipped off to the cigar lounge leaving the rest of the guests behind. Once all of the aged men filed into the room, Albert found himself standing next to a silver haired man of equal height. Well dressed, an outline of a holstered weapon hung from the inside of the man’s jacket.

“Amazing, Mr. Death graced us with his presence.” Graying blue eyes were met by a pair of dead steel wells that belonged to the man.

“Wesker.”

Both pitched their stare towards the group taking seats and lighting up cigars.

“How are thinks on Rockfort?”

Idle chitchat always annoyed the seasoned mercenary and his sigh caused the blonde to smirk.

“Same as always: cold, dark, and unforgiving. You should come back…” A steel colored eye appraised him. “You’re getting fucking fat.”

“I don’t enjoy counting rocks, Hunk. I think I’ll stay in the states.” Sly and endlessly snarky, Albert knew one day his luck would run out if he wasn’t careful.

Another one of the armed men that made up Spencer’s entourage stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. A faint glimmer of silver along his wrist caught Wesker’s keen eyes.

_‘Handcuffed briefcase? Well, this’ll be interesting.’_

“As always it’s Valentine who fetches what an army apparently can’t.” Spencer uttered softly, folders from the briefcase taken in hand as he stood up and seized his place in the center of the room. “I should disband the UBCS.” With that said, he dumped the folders on the table. A few glossed photos tumbled free. “Two companies are now scratching their heads as to why the ‘dirt’ they had suddenly vanished. Three others lost all of their research and information to include anything sent to a remote location in a series of horrible fires. It will take them years to rebuild. Why is it that I send one man to do all of this and he gets it done on schedule without giving excuses?”

Silence filled the room. All eyes remained on Spencer as he lit up a cigar. Soft murmuring filled the air, and Albert dared to gaze towards Hunk.

The silver haired man caught the glance, giving a shrug in return.

“With Alexia Ashford’s death and more companies surfacing with our work in their claws, I think we should reconsider isolating our research facilities to places where we can control more thoroughly.”

One of the board members replied from behind a cloud of cigar smoke. “What about that senator? What was his name? The one that wanted to open an investigation after that Pharmacell employee blew the whistle?”

“He’s been silenced.” Hunk uttered, his soft and graveled voice somehow encompassing the entire room.

Ozwell nodded, gathering up the photographs from the table. “Indeed he has. Many others will be as well…very soon.” Approaching the fireplace, he dumped the folders into the flames. “This is our opportunity to move everything into Raccoon City before another comes snooping around here in Denver.”

Everything said after seemed to blur to Albert. Discussions of competitors and how to handle them filled the den, as this was the true nature behind the evening. Either way, new plans were spoken of, and a toast was given to their success. With so much money being dumped into Raccoon City, it would only be a matter of time before Wesker would have to go there. His plans would have to wait, it seemed, as everyone sifted out. Spencer had too many guests to keep happy to speak of nitty gritty. Nothing new.

Returning from the den, the most powerful men in the world dispersed back into the crowds. Congratulations were extended to William by many as they passed, though Wesker gave him a look as he walked by.

"Oh don't be like that. Annette is already spitting fire and wanting to kick me out of the house, Albert."

Any reply would have to wait as Jill quickly made her way over to Wesker and Dick. "Ready to go, Jilly?" Dick asked, finally finishing his drink.

"Almost… There's one last song that they're playing. Can we stay for it, Dad?" She glanced over to Wesker, the same shy smile still on her lips.

Dick was no stranger to that look on his daughter’s face. "Oh boy….Jill, I think Mister Wesker has to get going as well. Hate for him to be stuck in traffic, eh?"

Saved by the father, though her crushed expression would not do. "Well, how about another time, Jill? Save the last dance for you." An award winning smile, and Albert leaned in to press a kiss on her cheek. He knew he had a few too many at this point. Looser than usual with his words. It was better to be diplomatic…and he couldn't deny that seeing her so infatuated by him was an ego stroke. At least that’s what several lutes of champagne and bourbon on the rocks informed him of.

"Alright. I'll hold you to that." She replied, though her face was stinging red again, waving goodbye as the father and daughter departed into the crowd to hopefully make it home within an hour.

Single wave returned, a smirk clung to the man's lips until Annette and William showed themselves to bid goodbye for the night. Annette had that woman look, as she seemed to have taken notice of some things. "I didn't know you could dance, Wesker."

A shrug given, the blonde began to undo his tie as they slipped out. "I didn't realize William could dance while smelling like a brewery."

"Wha?"

"Nothing, Will." Albert said quickly, allowing the undone tie to hang from his neck as he opened the door for the pair.

"She looked very young." Annette said, fishing in her purse for keys no doubt.

"It was just a dance or two, Annette. Girl was as bored as I was." Wesker replied, seeming a bit annoyed at such comments. Mrs. Birkin knew how to make him feel like he was under a microscope at times. Following the pair to their car, he was graciously bestowed with more of Annette's concern.

"Very pretty girl, she did seem to have a good time."

"Glad you can see my actions as charitable to say the least." Smile formed on his face, it didn't falter when she frowned.

"She looked very young." Annette repeated, opening the car door.

"Yes mother, I will avoid prison and not sleep with her until her birthday next week." Wesker replied, shutting the door for her after she had climbed in. Sarcastic ass.

The statement only caused William to cackle. "She's going to have you on the couch too if you don't shut up."

A sigh escaping her lips, the blonde woman lit up a cigarette and rolled down the car window. "We love you, Albert. We worry about you being up here all alone." She said, stare meeting his in a moment of silence between the two. His smile dropped, sobriety finding him at lightning speed.  She may as well have reached into his chest and drug out the blonde’s heart. "Come visit us in Raccoon City when you get the chance." The subject was dropped, though her and William's worry was made known. She always knew how to say so much more in a few words than most could put into entire books.

Waving them off, the blonde stood there in the chill of the night for a while. Lighting a cigarette of his own, he would just have to wait for the crowds to leave. Waiting for easier traffic was justification for allowing his thoughts to pass as snow began to drift down from the heavens _. 'I worry about me too, Annette.'_ Such a painful realization, though none would know he even thought it as the cold mask overtook and he made his way through the parking lot to his own car. Along the drive home, his thoughts wandered back to the young woman. It was almost…a tolerable evening.

Pouty lips...

Frosty blue eyes…

Cigarette was thrown out the window at that point. His thoughts roamed elsewhere.

_"Why does my mind wander so badly while driving?" He asked himself aloud, shaking his head. Twisting the dial, the radio flared on with some terrible underground hip hop song about white women and fat asses. The dial was immediate twisted backwards and the radio cut off. "That's why..." the blonde grumbled, steel colored eyes rubbed roughly as exhaustion crept over him with each passing hour. So long ago, he doubted she would remember him at all. Rain pelted relentlessly against the windshield as Wesker sped into Denver's city limits. Headlights switched to dim as the two-lane became a four; he tried once more to reach the Valentine residence. Perhaps Dick had forgotten the number, though he was betting on something far worse…_

_Reaching over to the glove compartment, he withdrew the Samurai Edge that lay hidden under a user's manual and a bottle of Pollo: Loaded, safety on, ready to go. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to use it this evening._

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Over the few years which followed that night, Dick Valentine had become a wonderful asset to Wesker's work within Umbrella. Despite Albert's original ideas about Spencer being an utter moron to send an old man to do the work of an army against other pharmaceutical companies, it was how Dick accomplished his tasks that left the twenty some year old man applauding. Acting as an investor for corporation buildings, he had one of those faces that most forget in passing and security tended to never be harsh on an old timer who was 'just looking for the board room with so and so'. Breaking in again was easy; Dick had relieved at least six people of their ID cards along the way and faking security tapes was all that Spencer ever had to provide. Those who worked with bioweapons tended to follow in Umbrella's steps for placing their labs within hospitals, thus it only took a stomach virus to get Dick inside. The rest is history…except for one event._

_Spencer had an old rivalry with a man who had nearly bankrupt Umbrella on more than one occasion on Wall Street with rumors of 'misuse of viral research' for selling to military organizations. Though this was completely true, the man had no idea of what exactly had been cooking in the Umbrella oven. Spencer wanted him to know before he died. Thus, Dick brought the man in to the Spencer Estate, alive and quite aware. What happened afterwards, left the old man shaking and taking half of what Spencer promised…without so much as a question where the other half of the payment would be coming from or if he'd even get it._

_“In the future… Can I just get easier jobs, Spence?” Dick asked in a cracking, hushed tone. Leathered fingers brushing back his gray hair, the man looked more than frazzled._

_Wesker watched from the shadows, arms folded and sunglasses masking his flawless face._

_William looked a little less solid, fingers worrying over the manila folder in his hands, straggles of blonde hovering over his freckled face._

_Ozwell was too busy to gaze at any of them, cigar smoke lifting from his crouched form over the corpse that lay on the lab’s floor. After a moment, he finally spoke. “Put him in the pen with the others. Show Dick where to put them if I need this done again.” Ignoring Dick’s request, the aging business man stood and strode out without another word._

_Wesker stepped forward, grabbing the dead body’s nearest arm and proceeding to drag the body off. Dick was on his heels._

_“Spence is out of his fucking mind. We gotta liquify this thing… or bury it at least.” The aging Valentine hissed. “Evidence will put us all in the pokey!”_

_No reply from Albert, he continued to drag the body. Narrow hallway then a steel door. Ring of keys, one found and the door was opened. “Help me.” He uttered, and the two heaved the corpse inside. Swiftly, Wesker slammed the door shut. Locked, he stepped away._

_To see what the T-virus could do… Dick would have to face that alone. He would have to see the corpse shift, then move…then rise and walk._

_Valentine saw…and he remained at the small three inch thick window to peer into the room for several minutes._

_Returning to the lab, he was worrying his hands. “…There are fifteen in there.” He whispered._

_Will looked up to him from his files._

_Wesker did not._

_“Four little girls…”_

_“It’s that man’s entire family in there.” William whispered in a weak tone._

_Dick sobbed._

_No such event ever happened again, though Wesker wondered what else Mr. Valentine had seen at the hands of Spencer in that hallway… Dick was no saint, but Ozwell was out of his fucking mind for exposing such vile truth to a man he shared a thirty year friendship with. It seemed that the elder of the two remaining Valentines knew just what kind of hell the staff of Umbrella was in, whether they had paid for the ride across Styx to sell their souls away or not. It was genius, really, how Spencer kept all of them silent and plastering fake smiles for the cameras: 'Do it or die. Oh, and your family tree will be uprooted and burned as well.'_

_Either way, Dick had done a bit of work for Wesker after that. Albert had met up with him in an old dive bar on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. He told him of a link to the government that could drown Spencer and Dick agreed to help. The two never spoke of the event at the Estate. The old timer provided Albert with valuable information from various parts of Umbrella. These things could have cost Valentine everything, including his only child. However, the realization that someone within could stop Spencer, gave hope for an end to what could seriously go wrong. Risk was the rolling of the dice every day that he stepped into an Umbrella facility. The old man had practically worked for free and a silent promise would be kept if possible for the information. At least that is how Dick probably perceived it, as the truth was not so flashy and heroic._

_'Money is the root of all evil', as some broke idiot once said. Albert's intentions were to obtain a great deal of it after toppling Spencer from his throne. It wasn't as though the man lacked compassion for others, but spending years working with the experiments of Umbrella had left him a tad jaded and certainly with a stress disorder. The designated therapist for the researchers said that it would be easier to think of the subjects as things or animals, rather than people. It was less traumatic to work with a rat than a person in biological research. Humans tended to do things such as speak and scream. Words tended to affect the brain and haunt the scientist. Hauntings tended to lead scientists to end their lives at that estate. Always a shot to the head, never wanting to come back as the very things they studied for months. He wanted out, badly. Even though he no longer was a scientist, it didn't mean that he was free of dealing with the T-Virus and its victims. Umbrella as a whole would have to fall._

_Much like Dick, Albert was just another 'gangster wanting out of the mob' and he wouldn't escape it without having to bring down Spencer and the board. Afterwards, he would live as a hermit on an island, drunk out of his mind until he drowned in his own pool during such a stupor. Maybe bail Dick out, and drag the Birkin tribe along while the rest of the world gasped as compromising photos of Umbrella and those she was sleeping with were chewed relentlessly in a media feeding frenzy. It would be worth setting his VCR to record to show the grandkids one day if he didn't manage to kill himself before that ever happened._

 

During the trip, Wesker had made a call back to Irons, explaining a revision of the situation in order to obtain Dick's address from the Denver PD. Within half an hour, he had the address. It would make their job easier, as there would be nobody at the house to hide evidence and a key witness would be in the custody of a police officer in a sleepy town within driving distance. Less for the local cops to deal with as taxpayers wouldn't be footing the bill for witness protection, and that made them all the more happier to give him the information.

Whatever Dick had landed himself in, it had drawn him into the circle of a Colombian drug cartel from what the captain at the local station said to Irons, who Wesker eventually had to hang up on. Not a good situation and keeping people quiet would be the first order of business. If Jill wasn't reached, she could easily be murdered, held hostage, or sold into human slavery for some ruler of a third world litter box. Wesker was no fool to the nature of some of these low lives. They were saints compared to Umbrella, but an annoyance for him to deal with.

Arriving on Parker Avenue, he drove past the Valentine residence, peering at the darkened two story home. No signs of life, and an older model motorcycle remained in the driveway along with two black cars parked on the street. It could have been a boyfriend's ride, if the license plate on the back didn't read "Jilly".

A lone man, dressed in a nice suit, stood at the door smoking what appeared to be a cigar. The cars looked exactly alike, and the man at the door didn't seem to have anything in common with a twenty-three year old woman outside of a nightclub. That was enough for Wesker to make the decision. Parking approximately three houses down, he killed the engine and the lights. “Joy…” Stepping out, the Samurai Edge was already stowed on his hip. If he knew anything about Dick Valentine, the house would have more guns and knives than a vendor's shop, and that was what he was counting on. _'Let's see how well you read people, Albert…'_

Approaching the house, he strode with confidence and adrenaline was beginning to pump through the blonde's veins with each step. The sound of his own heartbeat was thumping the inside of his skull, but he retained an aura of complete calm. The man at the door, upon closer inspection, was clearly from a South American country based on facial structure and skin tone. _'Shit shit shit..'_

A palm rose by the man, and he blew out a lung full of smoke as Wesker neared him. "Hey, nobody comes in here, hombre. Get the fuck out of my sight." The portly man barked, gesturing back to the direction he had arrived from. Coat opened, he revealed what looked like an Uzi in the darkness of the night.

_‘Charming…’_

That did it. Two steps taken, one stair skipped and Wesker delivered a devastating punch to the man's face. The sick sound of crunching bone alerted to a broken nose, the dead blow to the bride of said appendage was enough pain to knock the mouthy 'hombre' out of commission and to the ground. A swift kick delivered to the side of the head and it was lights out. Hopefully, that sinus cavity would fill with blood and he'd drown in it.

_'Not likely, but miracles happen.'_ Gun relieved, ammunition clip popped out and thrown somewhere in the yard, Albert stepped over the body of the unconscious man. Pulling his pistol from its resting place, the hammer’s click hit the air. Back coming to rest against the solid wood frame of the door, he allowed his knuckles to deliver a quick and loud knock to the door. Footsteps from the inside of the house and muffled voices caused him to retract his hand and ready the gun. Wesker would remain out of immediate line of sight, easier to put a bullet in the next moron who dared to poke his head out. He was outnumbered and definitely would use caution. "Open up! Police!" The blonde barked.

Foresight paid off. Apparently they'd expected him to stand in front of the door as a hole the size of a melon exploded in a shower of splintered wood and machine gun fire. _'Jesus Christ!'_ Whether a prayer or just a means to express internal surprise, the two words rang louder than the deafening spray of bullets. He remained still and silent until that moment came to retaliate. Heart pounding, he dared not to be the one to make a first move. _'Come on fucker…'_ Flashlight popped on, someone stepped out. It was male, liked diamond studs, and didn't realize it was already dead.

**_BLAM!_ **

An excellent shot, though far too easy. This would be child's play, in all reality, for the captain. These boys were barely men, let alone capable of fighting off someone who dealt with hostage takers and other types of terrorists on a regular basis. Not being one to bang his own drum, Wesker did pride himself on skill in these sorts of situations.

The bullet had entered through the right side of the man's skull and popped out the left. He didn't even get a look at his attacker before death took him. Little mess, though Wesker now owed Dick a new deck after the blood would be finished saturating it. _'No time for jokes, there are at least two more with a maximum of eight considering car space if they didn't stuff people in the trunks over trying to capture one woman.'_

The next idiot stepped out and he shared the same fate in much the same fashion aside from brain matter and blood splattering on his comrade that exited with him. That 'comrade' ducked though blinded by the mess. He managed to shoot like a wild man in almost every direction, and ended up with four bullets in him. Down to seven bullets, and that may have been unfavorable. _'Still need to get inside.'_

Broken glass and a tornado's deed done to the living room greeted Albert as he stepped inside. Cigar smoke and the horrid aroma of cheap cologne wafted into his nostrils. In his mind, it was enough of a crime without wrecking the house. The kitchen light was on, though at the far edge of the house with only a crack of light to show. He could hear the voices of whoever was still within the home. Not a string of feminine tone, and that only made the situation direr until he could eavesdrop.

Finding his way along the hallway connecting the living room to what appeared to be the downstairs bedroom and bathroom; he slipped quickly into the master bedroom unnoticed. Moving to the wall nearest in the kitchen's direction, Wesker began to listen in on what was being said. Thank God that Dick was cheap and the walls were somewhat paper thin. A few pictures of a girl, who only could have been Jill as she grew up, dotted the wall. Cute kid.

" _We'll negotiate her price for seven now."_ A pause and muffled barks of 'Go check on them' echoed before the conversation picked up again.

_'Don't count your luck before the cards are shown, kid.'_ Counting footsteps, there were four others besides the one speaking on a cellular telephone. Sweat pouring down his brow; Wesker didn't even realize how hard his body was working. Flicking on his penlight, the captain scoured the walls of the room for signs of a gun safe. There it was next to the closet on the far wall, filled with four hunting rifles and a shotgun. The shotgun was removed, checked and found to be loaded. Perfect.

" _Nah, she's not hurt and I think her papa may have tipped off the cops. We'll get him too, old timer is trapped like a rat and our inside guys can finish the job. By tomorrow, you'll have yourself a slice of white cake, Amigo. Alright, bye."_

Well, that certainly painted a picture, though the information that Jill was still alive was worth listening. Hustled footsteps and rantings in Spanish meant that time was running out.

_'Time to finish this.'_ Walking out of the master bedroom, he spotted one of them right off the bat and one shotgun blast put the Hispanic man on the ground motionless. Red spilled out from under him to stain the carpets. Ducking down, back against the wall, he waited for any allies of the fallen to show themselves. Two of them did at once, and both were swiftly peppered by a shotgun blast. Apparently Dick was cheaper than Albert thought, as the shotgun had no extra ammunition than the two original shells.

_'Well, shit.'_ Rising to his feet, Wesker stepped out from the darkness as the last one approached. The felon seemed to have thought he had time to load that pesky berretta of his before facing this 'cop'.

"I'll take that." Wesker said, dislodging the handgun from the man's grasp, leaving the man empty-handed and quite surprised. For his next trick, the cop would drop this thug like a stack of bricks: pistol whipping him square across the left side of his face. The man screeched in agony, but did not rise after crumbling on the floor.

"Good dog, stay down." Ammo taken, single bullet discharged from the firing chamber, the blonde simply let the junk pistol drop to the floor. Something was screamed in Spanish, though disregarded at this point. Fool knew he had been beaten without a single shot fired by him or Wesker.

_'Just awful you got the shit smacked out of you by a pig, isn't it?'_ The blonde inwardly thought, weapon trained ahead as he approached the kitchen's opening from the dining room. He couldn't afford to gloat at the pitiful criminal, as Jill was yet to be discovered. _'You would have thought she would have made a sound by now.'_

Peering in, there was not a soul to be found in the kitchen. Completely empty, and it looked like the men had caught Jill just as she was about to pour herself a bowl of cereal. The crunched trail somewhat indicated a man's sized shoes or boots, which headed towards the door closed before him in a crumb trail. _'No fable has ever had a nice ending for the crumb trail.'_ Glancing to the jug of milk on the counter, he could easily see condensation still formed on it. They hadn't been here long; therefore they may still not have her. Slipping around the mess of flakes on the floor, he shoved the door into the next room open, and there was nobody present yet again.

Penlight flicked on, trained in his free hand, the captain flicked the rays of light about the room. Not a damn soul to be seen. Only couches and an old television inhabited the den. The door leading to the stairwell was shut tight too, and as Wesker approached, sounds could easily be heard. A struggle, to say the least on the stairs.

"Quit squirming you little bitch! I swear to God I will cut your fucking throat if you try to bite me again!"

The blonde haired man pondered how exactly to handle this when the doorknob turned, and the unmistakable sounds of a panicking woman grunting and growling as she tried to break free. Stepping back, penlight clicked off, Albert stood within the doorway leading into the kitchen. Hitting the light switch, darkness overtook the den. The element of surprise was now his and hopefully Jill could manage to stand still long enough for him to get a clean shot off. What little light was given off from the street began to hang upon the stairwell door.

The seconds drug by for hours in the captain's mind as the final gunman struggled to hang onto the girl and open the door. _'Fucks sake, if you can't handle a struggling twenty-three year old woman and you're kidnapping her for God knows what…Might want to rethink your occupation. Should have consulted Dick for what is easy to steal.'_ If it wasn't for the fact that the idiot had her within his grasp, Wesker would have already ended it. _'So close, don't fuck it up now. Wait for it…'_

The door uneasily swung open, creaking and slamming against the wall as two shadows appeared from the stairwell. "See bitch? I can get you downstairs." Their backs were to Wesker up until this point. Jill's attacker delivered a smack to the side of her head, causing the woman to cry out. "Fucking going to make you pay for biting me when we get to the car. ENRIQUE! Start the fucking car, man!"

"LET ME GO!” Jill screamed, though received a quick smack to the head again for it, as well as a threatening gesture by the man with what seemed to be a k-bar.

"Shut up! Nobody can hear you; nobody is going to come save your ass. Your old man tipped off the cops but we took care of them. He’s a dead man too, don’t you worry about that." The Colombian laughed, kicking the door shut. "Soon bitch, you're going to be my ticket to the good life." Cackling, he turned and began to move forward with her in front. "But just in case that co-"The man stopped short, catching the outline of a figure no more than ten feet away. The business end of a pistol pointing at him was an eye catcher too. If any had ever witnessed Death manifesting on this earth, it stood in that doorway glaring its gray eyes behind the sights of the handgun.

There was nothing to be said at this point, no exchanging of words on Wesker's behalf; still, silent and the crosshairs fixed between the man's eyes. Steel gray eyes softened briefly as he gazed at Jill, seeing a bruised eye and a split lower lip. Tears had stained her cheeks, and were beginning to pour down again as it seemed she registered someone had come to her aid. The last person in the world she ever thought… Albert's stare switched to the degenerate who still held her tight, a knife at her throat. He was sweating. Good.

"Hey man, let's talk about this, I'll cut the profit for her fifty –fifty…"

The man’s voice drowned into a drone of background noise. The decision had already been made before the man began to speak, but Wesker had to line up his target again. Darkness made his sight picture a tad different than during the daytime and the gun only had one sight on it. Once lined up, there was no hesitation, he fired at the man.

Between the eyes, the bullet smashed into the man's skull. Within said area, a being cannot return fire or cut a throat when shot. It's what the books always said, and Albert had yet to see it fail. Dead, the man dropped to the floor behind Jill. K-bar clanked against the wooden beams, unused.

Pistol lowered, he stared at the woman before him. Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking her for being anyone other than Jill Valentine. It was the eyes, really. The white t-shirt she wore was now stained with blood along the neckline, blue jeans torn with one dark spot that probably was saturated with blood. Holstering his pistol, the blonde stepped forward.

"I know you …"Jill said softly, gazing up at him in almost a surreal fashion as the distance between them was reduced to nothing as she began to sob and was well on her way to falling if he hadn't caught her within a tight grasp. His arms, wrapping firmly around her, were probably the only comfort that he could possibly offer the woman at that moment. She was in shock, and not likely to be coherent after so much had happened. Her arms, though shaking, snaked around his neck and cinched tightly. They stood there well over ten minutes as she cried in the darkness. "Where’s Dad?" Those large blue irises, tinged with reddening whites, stared up at him as the question tore its way free from her mouth.

“He’s in prison. He sent me to get you.”

“You?” Her eyes asked why.

Brows knitting, his frozen expression finally broke as Wesker finally spoke. "Would be difficult to track you down to keep my promise if you were dead or a human slave in Mexico, my dear." The digits of his right palm swept upwards to brush away some of her brown strands and wipe some of the tears off. That was all it took for her to lose it again, cries and sobs returning tenfold as Jill buried her face against his chest. Right hand finding its way to her back, he tried his best to soothe her, though it was to little avail in a short period of time. They would have to leave soon, or risk having to fight off someone who woke up.

"I wanna leave." Jill finally said, tipping back to stare up at him. As he inspected her hairline and found another wound, the possibility of a concussion ran through Albert's mind. It explained why she hadn't been making much noise before. She could have died from that alone.

' _Those morons.'_ Wesker thought angrily, scooping her up into his arms. No shoes to be seen, he didn't care to gather footwear at that point. If anything, he'd give the girl his damn credit card and she could buy whatever she needed -anything, just to get out of that house. The young woman's arms were still looped about his neck, face pressed against Albert's chest as he stepped through the kitchen. Past the dining room, into the living room and out the front door, he tipped his head to rest against hers. "Keep your eyes shut." The captain commanded, stepping over the bodies left littering the deck. Seemed he was getting rusty, as there usually wasn't this much mess or this many bodies to count up.

The sounds of police sirens and an ambulance signaled the end of a terrible night. Clutching onto her, he waited absently as the police stopped and filed out of their cars. The cold air felt great against his heated flesh, though Jill was shivering terribly. The police chief was the first to approach the weary looking Albert, a smile forming on his face. "Captain Wesker, I'm glad you made it out."

Paramedics rushed to the blonde haired man, quickly setting up the gurney for the woman in his arms. "She might have a concussion. I tried to keep her from going into shock." One very calm and collected Wesker informed the two EMTs as they began to look Jill over. A single nod from the olive skinned woman, and he stepped away to join the police chief, who eagerly shook his hand. "Chief Stone, glad to finally meet you, Captain. I wish you had called before things had reached this point. You hurt?" He pointed to the blood now drenched over the blonde’s neck and crewneck white shirt peeking out from beneath the dark blue button down.

"No, I’m fine… and I couldn't call again, I didn't realize the trouble until it was too late. They may have killed the girl if I had waited any longer." Wesker replied, arms folding over the smear of darkness stained on his uniform’s top. Sweat and blood were typical.

"True, these boys don't look like they were fooling around. Dick Valentine made some harsh enemies." To the chief's comment, Wesker had none.

Several officers slipped into the house, and returned within a few minutes with at least one man handcuffed. He looked like someone had smashed a brick against his face. Wesker glanced to the chief, amid the blue and red lights illuminating the light his modest shrug was quite visible. "I left one alive at least."

"We would have been happier if you peppered holes into all of them, honestly. These drug cartels are turning my neighborhoods into a warzone." Chief Stone grumbled, pulling a pipe from his pocket. Lighting it, he puffed absently as the officers began to conduct their initial investigation. It was a very open and shut case, considering the circumstances. Really was their own fault for not hopping up to plate to have a show down with these, now dead or maimed, thugs.

"Do any of you know Dick's ties to these degenerates?" Albert asked, almost making Stone jump with an abrupt question. Captain Wesker was quite…different than the chief had expected. Silent as the grave until something peaked his curiosity.

"Yes, he was their favorite burglar for boosting cars to move their drugs. He was robbing jewelry stores with them as well. He’s cut a deal with the DA's office to serve his sentence in Raccoon City in return for testimony against the ring leader: Jose Arvada. It seems that Dick will be your problem very soon, Captain."

"I suppose that's a fair trade considering the mess I've made in your territory, Chief. Not to mention terrorizing a neighborhood."

Chief Stone chuckled, shrugging a bit. Reaching up, he scratched absently at the thinning hair near the back of his head. "Alright, I'll call you when your testimony is needed, Captain Wesker. I'm going to take a guess that Miss Valentine will be in your care until further notice?"

"Unless there is some sort of objection to it. Dick is an old friend of the family, my intentions are only to keep Jill out of trouble and put Denver in her 'rear view mirror'. Raccoon City is small and isolated; she should be safe and available for any needs in the case." Oh how he knew the perfect way to twist things into his favor, such a clever man.

"Not too worried about her picking up Daddy's trade?" The chief asked.

"No."

_‘Yes…’_

He really was concerned about that, though that was none of Chief Stone's business. "However, if it ever did come to that, she's likely to be doing it in Raccoon City and then it's my problem, again."

"Huh, you're just looking to take this entire mess off my hands…except for the bodies—"

"And the press that your men were the ones who gunned down the drug cartel, if you so desire. I'm sure a man in your position could use such good press in these trying times with elections so close. No casualties on your force's part and I'm sure these drug dealers left something in those nice Buicks."

That was it, the chunk of gold Wesker only needed to offer the Chief to make all of this go away and he could get back on the road. So simple and it was downright pathetic in Albert's mind that such men would need headlines to keep their ties to the mayor's office in good standards. Still, Stone took the bait.

"Very well, though I will need you to gather her statements about what happened, fax them to me and possibly bring her back as a witness if we need her against Arvada." Chief Stone said, relighting his pipe once more.

"It will be done." Wesker said with a smirk, gaze tilting to the ambulance. Jill was sitting up, talking to the female paramedic. Back on the deck, the heavy set Hispanic man sat straight up, finally having woken from the knock out. Rising to his feet, he tried to make a break for it, only to have four officers dog pile him on the lawn.

Stone shifted his stare to the S.T.A.R.S. captain.

Albert could only shrug. "Guess I left two alive."

"You're killing me, Wesker." The chief sighed, opening the driver's door of his car. "We'll be in touch. Get back to Raccoon City safely." With that, the chief was gone.

The flash of forensics' cameras was growing somewhat annoying, and Albert finally made his way towards the ambulance. Approaching, he waited quietly for the medical team to finish their evaluation. Trying to ignore the fact that they were not following procedure to the letter (though the woman seemed to have covered all the bases that her less experienced counterpart kept fumbling over) he set his focus on the brunette woman who couldn't seem to stop staring at him. It was better than tormenting himself or snapping at the pair for doing things incorrectly.

She smiled at him.

He couldn’t muster the same gesture. "Will she need to go to the hospital?"

The olive skinned woman twisted about, smiling to him. "No, she'll be fine. The cut on her forehead won't need stitching and there is no concussion, sir. I butterflied it, and if she doesn't feel that she needs to go to the hospital, then she is free to go with you. No rape, so no need for a rape kit."

"I'm ready to leave..." A hushed voice uttered from the lips of Miss Valentine, gaze settled on Wesker as she began to slip in his direction.

Sheepishly, Wesker stepped forward to aid her off of the medical bed, giving her some space to stand after. The cold cement under her feet made Jill give a hop or two. Perhaps she should have thrown on socks after her shower this evening. Leading her to the car, he unlocked the passenger door, allowing the woman to climb inside. Stepping around to the other side, he started up the engine and kicked the heat to full blast. "I'm going to make one phone call to let your father know that you're safe and then we'll leave."

"Can I talk to him?" She quickly asked, hands dragging swiftly up and down her forearms to warm them.

"It wouldn't be a good idea, Jill. Since he's trying to help the case against the man who sent these morons to capture you, it would probably be best to have no contact. It keeps his story and your story from blurring away from reality." Any thoughts or protests on her behalf were squashed, and a single sad nod indicated her submission. Shutting the door, he made the call. Turned away from the car, he certainly did not see Jill vigorously wiping at her eyes. Everything was still spinning, a blur that she couldn’t slow down. His presence itself was still shocking. _'The last time you saw him, you were barely eighteen…'_

Sniffing sharply, Jill couldn't keep herself from snooping a bit in the car's glove box. Something to distract herself…maybe a book or user's manual. The bottle of Polo caught her attention immediately, which she lifted out to inspect. The usual logo was on the cover, stenciled in gold. What else is a woman going to do when she finds a bottle of cologne in a man's car? Sniff it? Hell yes.

Uncapping the top, she took a small whiff of it. It was a crisp smell, reminded her greatly of hunky men doing construction on a beach. Why on a beach? She had no idea. Capping it, and stuffing it back into the glove compartment, she sat back and waited. More tears, and she tried to keep them wiped off.

Two minutes passed and the captain rejoined her inside of the car. By this time, Jill had his sunglasses on, looking rather perturbed. Reaching into the back seat, he pulled a large leather jacket to the front, slumping it over Jill's shoulder. "I don't have a blanket, but I assume this will do until we arrive in Raccoon City."

"Sure." She said, slipping the jacket to cover her form. Glancing over to him, she smiled briefly. "Thank you."

The thought crossed his mind to wretch the sunglasses from her, but it was swatted away rather quickly as he threw the shifter to 'Drive' and pushed on the gas. That would have been completely uncalled for and rather stupid. Though, it was his last pair…and they were Ray Bans. A soft sigh was the most fuss he made, making a right down the street and heading for the freeway. "You're welcome, Jill."

"It's… Albert, right?"

"Mhm."

"I'm glad you're here." She uttered softly, shifting in the seat to snuggle under the leather jacket. Within ten minutes, she was fast asleep.

“Me too…” He muttered softly, clicking the radio on. More rap about fat white women…

_‘Fuck…’_

The urge to take the sunglasses pestered him the entire way back to Raccoon City.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The first indication that they were finally reaching Raccoon City would have been when Wesker felt his ears pop. Terrible thing about going to and leaving Denver, they always tended to do that with the altitude. It was mostly the reason he never wanted to be a pilot for a living, it would have driven him insane and into the side of a mountain. One hand rising to rub the right ear, jaw slacking over and over, the pain vanished in a few minutes. Daylight was creeping over the horizon, and they were still twenty minutes from his house. He was dead tired…and hadn't felt this awful from exhaustion in years. Even then, it was due to a stomach virus or some crazy jungle fever from having to hold Spencer's hand to visit a remote lab. It always seemed to be in a rain forest, in the middle of a region where sticks and stones were weapons still. This was all around exhaustion, though Jill had been a good girl and slept the entire trip. She’d made it easier for him to unwind after the incident in the house.

Every once in a while, he found himself glancing to her, surprised at how much she had changed. Jill had definitely filled out, curvy though slender. Her face hadn't altered much, though he noticed freckles dotting high on her cheekbones. The once long hair was now cut short, which the man couldn't decide if he liked or not. _'Why would it matter if you liked how she looks? Oh that's right. You're alone and judging women is all you have time to do now. How's that working out?'_

Convinced that Annette had found a way to seat her mentality into his psyche, the inner conversation ceased immediately…with himself. Flicking his cell phone open, Wesker began to dial the RPD. After the ten second conversation with Forest Speyer, the captain realized he may as well have told S.T.A.R.S. to have a frat party while he was gone. They'd certainly be bouncing off the walls, getting nothing done. "Fuck it…" he mumbled, deciding not to care. Chief Irons would show himself if too much noise was being made, and he could handle it. After all, the tubby chief did host the ‘scared straight’ program for kids.

Another phone call made, he reduced speed as they came within the limits of the suburb that Albert now called 'home'. Three rings before Will picked up.

"William Birkin speaking."

"Hello, Mister Birkin. This is Doctor Richards; I'm calling with your results for 'Foot in Mouth' disease. You needn't worry sir, the results came back negative. You'll continue to speak without thinking."

"Ass." The scientist grumbled on the other end of the line, though did begin to laugh.

A chuckle finally left Wesker's lips, unable to keep up the charade. "How are things in your neck of the woods, Will?"

Stepping over to his computer and pulling up the seat, Birkin gave a deep sigh. The entire office was flooded with scientists and staff, giving William a feeling of claustrophobia outside of the cubicle. "Doing alright, though Annette and Sherry are fighting on a regular basis because of our terrible parenting. I guess we were supposed to attend a play last night and I did not go because of a breakthrough."

"She isn't going to be little forever, William. Might want to take a vacation or a week off to watch Barney with her. The virus will still be there when you come back, just throw it in the freezer." Light changing to yellow, Wesker slowed and came to a halt as the color flicked over to red.

"Hah, this is coming from the man who got her addicted to those shows just to torture me. Considering how much time you spend with her, I'm thinking about lying and telling Sherry that you're her dad." Entering his password, William gazed at the loading screen of his computer terminal. The Umbrella logo spun in a circular motion as the information was processed.

"Oh that's not right. I wouldn't sleep with Annette, she might break something." The blonde said with a snicker.

"Yes, she might. So, why are you calling at this hour? Thought the RPD kept you busy until noon with meetings and whatever other garbage that mucus ball Irons can come up with. It has to be six in the morning." Screen not shifting, William delivered a bang against the computer tower. "I need a new computer."

"Sounds like it. I'm actually taking a day off. Had some things come up.” Light shifted to green, he hit the gas to head straight on.

"You are taking a day off? Things? That Wisconsin chick came crawling back to you?" Giving the computer a hard shut down, William began to annoyingly long task of rebooting. "Thought she said 'Eh' too much for you."

"She did… That's not why I'm taking the day off." Clicking on his right hand turn signal, Wesker made the intended turn and sped onward through the neighborhood.

"You're going to keep me in suspense, girlfriend?" William said in a mocking tone.

Sighing, Wesker finally relinquished the information. It was too insane for him not to at least tell the one friend he had maintained over the years. "You remember Dick Valentine?"

"Uh-huh. He was Spencer's buddy until both old farts decided to scare one another. Dick showed his ear hair and Spencer showed him an infected man's eating habits. I think Spencer won that contest. What about him?" The computer fired back up, login screen popping up once more. William began to type in his user ID and password.

"Do you remember his daughter?"

"Vaguely, though the only night I ever saw the girl was from afar." William's tone switched to that of his 'sassy gay man' impression. "She was dancing with some dashingly handsome man who made my loins long for passionate love. Ooooh, I wonder if he's single now."

"Nice, William. I'm gay for you too when you're drunk during your promotional speech."

A laugh escaped Birkin's lips, swiveling in his chair a bit. "Annette still hasn't forgiven me for that." Eyes wandering about the lab, Will set his view on two women chatting away by the water cooler.

"Anyway, Dick is back in prison for theft and other charges. Doesn't look like the old man will spend another day of his life walking a free man. He called me and asked me to pick her up before some Colombian drug cartel thugs managed to get to her."

"Es no bueno. And did you?" William asked, waiting for the login screen to swap over and allow him in. When it finally did, he quickly set to work opening the program for his lab journal.

"I did. She's resting in the car next to me. Dick was calling from Denver about it yesterday." He replied, glancing to the sleeping Valentine in the passenger seat. The woman could sleep through a hurricane more than likely. Jealousy flooded the blonde’s thoughts at such a wonderful ability.

"Hrm, that doesn't sound so bad." Closing out the journal, William glanced to a small two by five picture of Sherry taped to his monitor.

"Wouldn't have been if I had arrived there before ten at night without eight or nine thugs at the house to collect her." Arriving at last, he swiftly pulled his car into the driveway. Albert's home was a two story house that didn't hold too many personal effects in the front yard. It seemed plain, though maintained to the same standard as every other house around the block. "They weren't happy to see me."

"But you're such a swell guy. They wouldn't know good people if one came up and socked them in the face." Opening another folder on his desktop, William waited for his solitaire game to load.

Engine killed and car door swung wide open, Wesker stepped out of the vehicle, finally able to stretch. The air was still chilled, but it felt great to be standing after ten hours of driving back and forth from Denver. "Some got that lesson, though most had to be dealt with the old fashioned way, including the one who was not too subtle with his intentions of selling her as a sex object."

"Jesus, Albert. How many did you put down?"

"Seven. Eight. I can't remember right now, I'm exhausted." Free arm coming to rest on the roof of his car, he yawned deeply. Tugging the earpiece out of his other ear, the blonde haired man allowed the device to simply hang from its strap on his vest.

"Yeah, I'm usually exhausted after I go on my weekly 'Jack the Ripper' spree too, you psycho. What were you thinking?" Birkin asked, heading for the door leading out of the office. It was coffee time, again.

"At that time, not a great deal. I owed Dick some money and this was a way to settle that out. Wouldn't you agree?" The sun was climbing slowly, though the red dawn was slowly shifting in color. William was well aware of what Dick had done for Albert, considering that even Birkin was throwing his chips in against Spencer.

"I suppose, though I don't go save debt collectors kids that are in trouble when I want out of a debt. I just pay it off, and I know you have the cash. Not like ‘what’s her face’ that you got knocked up wants anything to do with you or your money. House bought, no girlfriend, not even a dog." Pouring a cup of coffee, William took a long swig from the mug. The scientist knew all too well how to pick apart his friend's bullshit, and loved doing it.

"Cute.” Albert’s brow cringed lightly at the memory of a child he didn’t even know. A boy that was growing up with a bitch of a mother that never let the blonde man know where they were. She kept it that way, and he’d had plenty of issues tracking them down. “The man offered me thirty five hundred to let him sell her off. Half of what she would sell for."

"Seven grand for a girl? I think I wipe my ass with more than seven grand every year in toilet paper." William snorted, striding down the hallway back to the office. That cute lab tech who didn't enjoy the restraints of a bra was working today. Giving her a head to toe glance from behind, the chief of research shook his head with a goofy little grin. _'You go girlfriend. Now someone just hit the AC.'_ "Terrible what the world is coming to." Birkin said at last.

"As though we don't know anything about that, right, William?" Shutting the door, the blonde haired man walked down the driveway to check his mailbox. A few children were playing across the street, and the littlest one, Anne Richards, was yelling furiously at her older sister during their make-believe game. This resulted in more squabbling under the trees of their front yard.

"Nope, wouldn't know a damn thing about that my friend." The scrawny scientist retorted, beginning his daily ritual of card games. G-virus results were still on the way. Somehow he always managed to lose at these games at around thirty-six hours of no sleep. Easy way to tell when it was time to take a break and resume later.

Opening the mailbox, finding nothing, Albert finally sighed. Upon shutting the box's door, he suddenly had a question. "Do you think I'm losing my mind?" He asked, striding back up the driveway.

Leaning back in his chair, William laughed a bit. "As a member of Umbrella, I believe you did what was right by the company to protect individuals of interest that we don't need falling in the wrong hands. You should be given a gold star for today from Uncle Ozwell."

"How about as a friend, William?" His gaze twisted to the car as the passenger door opened. Stepping out, draped in the leather jacket with a pair of aviators that definitely did not fit her facial structure, Jill still seemed only half awake. Brows popped, he pointed to the front door. No need to tell her twice, she made for it.

Realizing he hadn't given her keys was about the time he noticed she somehow got in anyway. "What the… Did she just pick my front door lock?" He quietly asked, no intentions of said question receiving a real answer. Of course she'd picked the lock with a thief's quiet hand.

_'Maybe this was a mistake.'_

_'You think?'_

"If you really want my opinion as a friend, then make dinner for Annette, Sherry, this new roommate of yours and myself tonight. Feel free to make something for you too. Hate to see you starving yourself to maintain your figure."

"Fine. How does chicken sound?" Albert asked, some heat filling his voice as he approached his front door. If she honestly thought that rules could be violated, the woman had another thing coming!

"Chicken sounds like bawk bawk bawk, but whatever floats your boat. I suppose they could bark or moo. I get confused sometimes myself." It was growing clearer that William was reaching his thirty-six hour mark, as sarcasm seemed to be the only venue in which he spoke. Dropping the humor before Albert hung up, he laughed. "We'll be there around sixish… Annette and I are leaving within the hour to get some rest."

"See you then." With that he hung up. Not only was he exhausted, he had an infamous headache from William twisting everything said into a joke. It seemed to happen every Tuesday. The digits of his right palm roughly drug against his eyes and to the temple before dropping. _'Now where did she go?'_ Striding toward the hallway on the far side of the spacious living room, away from the front door, he peeked into his own room first. Not there.

The faint sound of flushing heard, water ran, and then she emerged from the bathroom. With how she appeared, he only could imagine that they both looked like warmed over death. Sunglasses propped atop her head, a dark circle was forming under her unbruised eye. The split lower lip was showing signs of bruising around it. "Where can I sleep?" Jill finally asked, rubbing her face vigorously.

' _It isn't worth conflict now, you're exhausted. Specify it as a rule later.'_ He took his own bribe, procrastinating.

"Just take my bedroom. I'll sleep on the sofa this afternoon. Master bathroom has towels in the cabinet if you decide to shower. We'll have some familiar faces over for dinner; if you don't mind some social interaction after…what probably was the most terrifying night of your life." Lips forming into a thin line after, the man wanted to allow his head to sink between his shoulders. Shit, he probably shouldn't have let William talk him into dinner. Not because it might disturb Jill, but he really didn't think another meltdown by the woman in front of Annette would bode well for him.

"Sounds good, I might bow out early and sleep more if you don't mind. Not feeling incredibly social." She replied, hoarse as can be.

"I don’t blame you. These folks are insanely strange. I’d want to hide out from them too." He said with a smirk in the dry humor, seeming to warm up to her as the moments passed. Now he remembered why distinct details stood out about her: she didn't irritate him with ridiculous nonsense. "Its fine, Jill. Take the time you need. Right now, I need sleep."

Nodding, she stepped closer to him, as it seemed some of that old shyness hadn't completely vanished. Arms slipping about him, she gave the blonde haired man a gentle hug before tottering off to the bedroom for some much needed sleep. As the door shut, he realized that once again he forgot the sunglasses.

"Son of a…" He growled and then sighed harshly, finding his way over to the leather sofa. "Forget it." Flopping on it, face down, he did not wish to budge an inch. Kicking off his boots was too much effort; removing his gun was on the same page as the boots. In about five minutes, he was out like a light. Motionless, breathing steadily, Albert had earned a decent rest undisturbed.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Jill was making herself comfortable. For the house being a bachelor's home, it was very clean and tidy. The bedroom was much the same, though there were books stacked in any available shelf or case that lined one wall. The farthest wall that trailed along a path with the king sized bed into the master bathroom was completely dotted with what looked to be reprints of certain works by Leonardo da Vinci. Jill Valentine wasn't great with art, as that was Dick's forte, but she did recognize the Vitruvian Man. A few clothes were on the floor, which she put into the hamper next to the bathroom's door. The sunglasses, she gently set on the nightstand next to the bed, and the leather jacket was hung on the back of the bedroom door. Fingers trailing over the RPD identification badge on the stand, the emotionless face of Albert Wesker stared back at her in ink. A smile crept over her lips, feeling ease washing over.

Her t-shirt was ruined, tossed off and put in the hamper as well. Jeans kicked off, she examined the large scrape that had already scabbed over along her left leg. It hurt so friggin' bad. Teeth grit, she plucked a few fibers of torn jean out of it. Examining her lime green painted toenails, she frowned at the color being chipped from her left big toe, which was dirty, along with the rest of her feet from walking barefooted.

_'Things could have been worse. If there ever was a God in Heaven, this was the sign I couldn't ignore. Should try to be a decent guest and earn my keep while this mess is sorted out.'_

Fatigue wafting over her once more, Miss Valentine crawled under the comforter and between the sheets. Eyes closing and opening repeatedly, she sighed. The scent of him was all around, and she did her best to ignore it until the sandman came.

Wesker first woke around four 'o clock, though it took about half an hour before the six foot man climbed off the couch. Sore, still fighting off sleep, he made for the guest bathroom. Light switch clicked on, Albert took a glance at his appearance. Stubble had already begun to show along his jaw line and chin. No time to shave, he exited only to check on the young lady occupying his bed. Knocked out still, the blonde haired man gathered a black shirt, jeans and clean socks in the quietest form possible. _'I'll give her another half hour.'_

The hot water in the shower felt excellent, pelting away the wear and tear from the night before in warmth. Hair slicked back after a good rinse, he spat away some of the water trying to catch between his lips. Gray eyes finally opening, Albert inwardly sighed. "What now?" he asked the walls. They had no answer for him, only the sound of running water filling the air. Expression stiff as stone, the water was cut off and the man hastily dried off and changed.

Once out of the bathroom, the sounds of water running distantly registered. Good, she was up again and cleani- "Shit, she has no clothes." Albert huffed, heading for the laundry room. Finding a clean RPD shirt and some pajama pants with a drawstring, he returned to the door of his bedroom, opening it only to toss the two articles on the bed. Sighing, it was yet another thing piled on his plate aside from business as usual; caring for her until the girl was on her feet.

_'She might not end up leaving if you play your cards right…'_ His expression dropped at such a thought. “Am I really that fucking needy right now?” He growled at his own inner self before stalking off into the kitchen.

The 'Birkin Tribe' hadn't arrived yet, though dinner was prepared and the table set. Jill had decided to make an appearance, in the clothes provided. Brow quirked, Wesker realized her presence after the last of the silverware was placed. "You're up. Good. I hope you don't feel too awkward, but I didn't get a chance to wash your other clothes."

"It's fine." She started, offering a faint smile upon stepping into the dining room. One hand reached back, itching absently at the tag, the woman's gaze set upon him. "I…" Seemed the cat had her tongue just before the doorbell rang. That was enough to cause a grin to play across his lips as Albert stepped past her to answer it. The exchange of greetings at the front door caused the young Valentine to follow.

Annette was in the middle of giving Albert a hug, mentioning something about how long it had been since they had gotten together. William stepped past all of them to head for the kitchen with two bottles of wine within his grasp. A kind nod given to Jill, he kept walking without so much as a word.

_'He probably noticed the lovely shiner on my eye. I look like a poster child for battered women.'_ Jill thought miserably, still hovering nearby.

Sherry happily ran inside, jumping around in a red dress with matching ties in her hair. It was the little girl who broke the ice and actually spoke to Jill. Little hand pointed up, she gasped at the woman. "You hit your head!" The littlest Birkin chirped, dashing up to grab onto Jill's hand. "My daddy is a doctor. He'll fix you." She said in a matter of fact tone, dragging the woman along with her as the crusade to find Daddy began. "DADDY!"

"Yes, Sherry?" William replied, finding himself face to face with his daughter with the Valentine girl in her custody. "What's wrong?"

"She hit her head! You have to help her!" The urgency of the child's tone caused a smile to break out on Jill's face. This little one didn't appear to be held back by the age old 'Don't talk to strangers' at all. No, let's drag them to Dad and have him fix them up.

Laughing, William scooped up his daughter. "I'm sorry; she's just like her mother."

"I heard that." A feminine voice retorted, and Annette stepped into view. Striding over to Sherry and Will, she placed a little kiss on their daughter's cheek. "I resemble it too, considering that it would imply compassion."

To that remark, William made a mock hiss sound of pain. "You cut me deep, Annette." The slender man replied, brows popped a few quick times at his mate. An eye roll was her reply, along with a changing of the subject as to where the wine glasses were. He won.

Arms folded, Jill didn't really know what to say. She had this suspicion that she was huddling, though couldn't be sure. She recognized the pair vaguely, more so Annette than Will.

Annette broke the silence at last after pouring herself a glass of wine. "Have you talked to your father yet, Jill?"

"No, I haven't." A sad reply, though Albert slipped next to the young woman.

"Denver Police will call when Dick is allowed another phone call. They moved him into solitary confinement for his own protection." The blonde answered, seeming to make the effort of keeping Jill from just dragging herself back to bed. She looked about ready to sneak off.

It was William who would pipe up and keep that from happening. "Well, we all want you to know that you're in the company of friends. Your father's work before he quit Umbrella was very important. He's a good friend of Spencer and you will get a fresh start here. No better place to stay either; I hear that your roommate runs half of the police force." A glance to Wesker, then back to Miss Valentine. "Trust me; you're not going to fall between the cracks in Raccoon City."

Annette nodded in turn, sipping on her glass of red wine.

It was a lot to digest in a few seconds, and the warm arm slipping about her shoulders from Wesker was comforting as well. Nodding, she forced a smile. "Thank you."

The next thing would be tears, so it was time to change the subject. "Anyway, food is ready if we want to eat." Albert said, dropping his arm from about Jill's shoulders abruptly. He almost chided himself for touching her.

Following the others, a sigh of relief escaped Jill’s lips, though Sherry was trying to get her attention now.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Jill." The woman replied, smiling broadly to the Birkins' daughter.

"Well, I'm Sherry." No time for proper social exchanges, as Sherry already darted for her seat at the table.

After dinner, the two men went out onto the back porch to discuss a few things. This left Annette and Jill to talk. Sherry finally wore herself out from running around and now was sound asleep on the loveseat across from them.

"So, how long has it been since you two saw one another?" Mrs. Birkin suddenly asked, taking a swig from her wine glass.

Jill was caught off guard, blinking at such a direct question. "I…Maybe five or six years? I can’t really remember."

The blonde haired woman nodded, gaze shifted to the sliding glass doors that led out back. "I remember that night. You were adorable. Constantly asking him to go dance with you. I haven’t seen him smile that much since that night. Just dumped and had a cute little thing dragging him to the dance floor. You were a godsend to that poor man’s ego.”

"I hadn’t thought about that night in a long time.” Her stare drifting to the mantle over the fireplace, a painting greeted the woman’s eyes. A tree line bathed in snow. “I was shocked when I saw him behind the barrel of that gun.”

Annette gave Jill a look, frowning. "Not many people get the chance to walk away in that scenario, count yourself lucky. Also, if the space here becomes too small for you both, you’re more than welcome to the spare bedroom in our house. Will and I are barely home. Sherry is usually staying with relatives in the city while we work."

“I appreciate it." Jill replied, finally taking a drink from her wine glass. The red wine was a bit bitter, but warm against the tongue. "I like it here. Though I feel a bit like a burden. Daughter of an old friend… I just don’t want to be in the way. I get that vibe I may be that, you know?”

"You’re probably not. Albert is very hard to read, and gives off a callous impression at times. I’ve known him so long that a lot of his behaviors are easy for me to spot. He’s been alone for quite some time now, so he may just be neglecting his manners.” Annette shifted her gaze to the cinnamon candle resting on the squatting coffee table. “Still…”

“Still…what?” Jill’s curiosity was peaked, a blue hued eye wandering its gaze through the blinds towards the taller blonde man. His gaze was fixed on William, an eye roll soon following the muffle of whatever Birkin had uttered.

Whatever Annette truly had on her mind, she kept it to herself. A waving of a dismissive palm and she was at her glass of drink once more. “Nothing, ask me again someday.”

Meanwhile, outside, a similar conversation was going on between William and Albert.

"So, nail her yet?"

"For fuck’s sake, Will." Wesker grumbled, taking a long swig from a glass of bourbon. He hated wine, especially that red wine Annette couldn't live without. “We’ve been here for a grand total of ten hours. Eight of those I spent sleeping, the other two I spent making dinner for you so a fair breeze won’t blow you over.”

"Oh? From our conversation earlier today, I thought you might be swooping that way. I don’t know who you keep in your stable these days. Thought you may have given the knight in shining armor routine a try." He did his best to ignore the jab to his ribs.

"Swooping is bad." Albert replied, taking another sip.

"Very bad, though to answer your question," turning to face the blonde man, "I think that you are out of your mind. You drove however many hours to rescue Dick Valentine's daughter from a band of idiots that tried to make Dick take the fall for two murders. You killed most of them, from what it sounds like."

No reply was given to Will, though he waited for it. The other man just continued to sip on that drink of his.

"Albert, you cannot coax most men to do that for their wives, let alone a woman that you barely know! Your face is about to be all over the papers when we’re trying to fly under the radar. Your reasoning? 'I owed Dick money, it's not like I want to bang his daughter Will. Seriously.' You don't date, you only work and this is the first woman I've even seen you standing near that isn’t my wife, since Miss 'Eh'." Ah, William…always the pessimistic one.

"I thought you liked the girl from Wisconsin."

"I wanted to peel my own eyes out every time she spoke." William scoffed, taking a drink of wine.

"Huh, should have married her then. In all reality, looking out for Spencer's ring of 'friends' is still part of my job. Couldn't have him suspecting that I don't give to damn about what happens to him, the board, or those who have ties that are hanging by a thread. Would raise questions about what I am doing… If Arvada had gotten ahold of her, Dick **_would_** have talked." Albert gazed inside, noticing the two women were talking as well. _'That cannot be good.'_

“You’re probably right. Don't forget that you get to inform Spencer of the Colombians."

"Already done, actually… Irons handled that. I figured that the slob could use more money for his taxidermy obsession by running the errand."

"I just ate, please save the Chief Irons discussions for another time."

"Fine, though all of this is going to be much easier with Miss Valentine in Raccoon City. Dick is serving what time he has to in this town. He’ll be a good boy as long as she is in my hands. It won’t be hard to take what we need for your bid to the Pentagon with him only a stone’s throw away. Not like I don't have the authority to move Mister Valentine to the RPD itself from the jailhouse for 'questioning'. Just schedule a little field trip at that point."

William’s gaze narrowed, all of the pieces falling into place. “You’ve been keeping this ace up your sleeve for a long time. You want to use her too, don’t you?"

"From the moment she was introduced to me as his daughter. I’m hesitant to move fast. Aside from being shook up, there is no telling what a young woman with a mind of her own is capable of doing. Yes, she is an ace I’ve kept in my sleeve if Dick ever was unavailable."

"Right, so do you have any plans for gaining her loyalty?” The scientist asked.

"Certainly, though it will require some time to gain a good view of her as a person first. If I can’t convince her, Dick will. Don't worry, old friend. We'll see this storm through and be able to walk away."

"Then you can marry some bimbo and have babies that I can corrupt with the latest children's shows. It's only fair after the Barney bit with Sherry."

Wesker couldn't keep himself from a malicious little grin. "But Barney is so educational." His voice was laced with innocence but William would probably never forgive him for letting Sherry watch it when she was very young.

"So is the class I give at the University… People still pass out halfway through it, and I don't have to buy thirty of those stupid stuffed animals that are still at my house." William grumbled, finishing the wine and turning for the door. Stopping short, he tipped his head to look back at his friend. "I hate to say this, because I know how it always ends. It might be best to just play her into your hand with her heart. Getting her on board to take down the corporation with us is a few zeros from being shot up if she’s just in it for money. I’d hate to think that Dick would turn on us, but it’s a possibility and we don’t have the manpower for betrayal without her help.”

Albert tilted his head, evaluating his partner in crime’s proposal. Part of him laughed the idea right out of his head. The other? It kept wandering back to cornflower colors. He had a sneaking suspicion his facial expression was airing it as well. “I saved her hide, Will. There is no need for anything of the sort. She’ll play along like everyone else. Easily disposable, just like Dick after all is done. No loose ends.”   


William couldn’t erase the skepticism from his face. “No, I know that you will go through with it. It is a good method to consider, but I know you and your little black heart. You’re almost alive around her. I just think that makes her dangerous.”

Albert shot him a sour look before leading the way back indoors. “Don’t insult me.”

Hands up, the shorter man submitted. “Okay, if you can handle it... I’ll still have a pint of ice cream and a box of tissues waiting for you, my favorite assassin.” William grinned.

Annette and Jill were laughing about something, and it caused Sherry to stir from her slumber. The two men entered and joined them in the living room. Joining in on the conversation, the four almost lost track of time. The topic? William’s first trip to South America that nearly ended an international crisis along with the scraggly haired man coming down with a rare jungle fever. Despite both matters being dire at their time, some funny little bits sprang up in the discussion.

It wasn't long before the Birkins needed to leave, and then they were alone. Locking the door behind him after the family left, the man felt somewhat concerned about how the rest of the evening would unfold. Thoughts of such were brushed aside, not a sliver of worry to be found on his face as Wesker rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Oh, I was going to take care of those, Jill." Referring to the filled sink and dishes half done.

"I'll be done in a bit." The woman said softly, smiling a bit as she rinsed one plate off and set it in the drying rack. Next was a wine glass, and so on. “It feels nice to do something distracting.”

He didn't budge, leaning against the counter near her. Finishing the glass of bourbon, Albert handed it over to her for cleaning as well. Taking it from him, she immediately dunked the glass into the soapy water. The woman must have felt his gaze upon her, head tipping and blue irises fixing their stare upon him in return. Her motions ceased, aside from shutting the water in the sink off. Dishes weren't done, though. Silence filled the kitchen as they stood there.

There was something about her, and it had been pestering him since the beginning. Her form was pleasing to the eyes, round hips and full chest accompanied by doe shaped blue eyes above an infectious smile. Yet, there was something… Something different that set her apart from other people in a vast way. The blonde man’s intuition and ability to read people right down to their hand gestures was how he had made his way through the world thus far. There were many things very easy to pick up about her just by being near her.  One stuck out more than the others…

_‘She’s one of those Robin Hood types.’_

She could feel her heart threatening to bludgeon her ribcage to dust as she gazed up to him. Feeling almost light headed, Jill wasn’t entirely sure how much longer she could stand there. The silence was threatening to choke her.

Just as he was about to say something, the phone rang. Clearing his throat, Albert slipped off to answer it. Nearly midnight… Who would even be calling?

Jill bowed her head, a deep and relieved sigh escaping her lips as he exited the room. Too much tension and too many other things going on in her head for her to focus. Though, he was a better distraction than the dishes.

_‘Don’t. Just don’t even go there. Get your head screwed on straight.’_

Once done with cleaning the dishes, she saw that he was still on the phone. Wandering into the living room, she tried to watch television. It was something to do aside from thinking about all Annette had said or the trauma still rolling around in her skull from the night before. Visions of a man dragging her down the stairs by her hair rang out the most. She could almost feel his nails digging in her scalp still, the memory burning still on her flesh.

“Don’t worry too much, Miss Wong. He’ll come back around… I’m sure you’ll figure all of that out.” Phone off, Wesker slipped back into the living room.

Jill was out like a light, curled up under a blanket she’d found.  Eyes wandering to the television, he could see why. “Fucking hate Wheel of Fortune.” Remote clicking the tube off, he watched her for a few moments. Bloodied, beaten, bruised and still strong enough to endure Annette and William for an evening. She was ready for Raccoon City it seemed.

Stepping into his bedroom, the blonde stripped and crawled into his bed. Her perfume lingered still. Switching to the other side of the bed, he did his best to ignore it and try to fall asleep. William’s words annoyed him until about two in the morning.

_‘She’s impressionable enough that this’ll be simple. In time she could become my own shadow.’_

There were some things he was not ready to admit. Smitten was not something in his vocabulary and the very thought of it gave him a headache.

Poor Al, next morning he’d wake up face planted right in the middle of the pillow she’d been occupying.

And he’d apologize to no one for it.


	5. Chapter 5

The alarm began its usual buzz at six 'o clock in the darkened room. Small traces of light littered the floor as the sun was cresting over the horizon outside. Someone stirred beneath the comforter, as a hand jetted out to silence the clock. Blankets tossed back, one very drowsy Albert Wesker shifted to sit on the edge. Rigorously rubbing away the sleep clinging still, he rose and headed for the bathroom. Usual ritual of shower and shave, he was done in no time and left the room. Sometime during the night, he remembered the need to wash her clothing… or so it seemed. Could have been sleep organizing again, he didn't really recall or care. What mattered was that today they would be going to the RPD to tie up these last loose ends with Denver and be done with it. A quick trip to the washroom and her clothing was retrieved.

' _Irons will probably be curious as to why it has fallen to his police department.  Spencer already knows and to think the old wolf didn't is just ignorance.'_

Retreating to his walk in closet after tossing Jill's clothing onto the bed, the blonde quickly began to dress. The man only stepped out after he was down to just tightening his belt.

Opening the door to his bedroom, he was blessed with the sight of Jill two seconds from knocking. She jumped, one hand reaching to cover her heart. “I was just about to…”

“Knock? Here are your clothes. Don’t take too long in the bathroom.” Frozen words, he was back to his usual self. Not even a hint of the man that wrecked her house.

“Right.” She muttered, taking the clothes and retreating to the guest bathroom.

“I know how most women say ‘ten minutes’ and it ends up being four hours.” Both paused after those words escaped him.

_‘That was awkward, even for you…’_

Her expression filled with a feigned scowl before it twitched into a small smirk. “I promise I won’t take long.”

He was left to his own devices as the sound of the shower came on. The desire to cringe at his comment was almost beyond bearable. He had another headache on top of that.

_‘She’s naked in there.’_

“Oh shut up…” He hissed at himself, marching to the kitchen. Time for coffee, and to start hunting through the ads for finding a place for the girl to live. His residence was…

_‘Completely out of the question. A safe house for her under Annette’s name would make more sense in case someone came looking to take her again.’_

Fifteen minutes later she emerged dressed and a brief stretch revealing a flat stomach peeking beneath a white shirt. She didn’t notice the lightly colored brow raised on his part before his stare reverted to the fine print of his paper. “I need shoes.” The brunette commented, arms folding behind her head.

Albert cast a glance up to her from the newspaper, one brow lifting once more. A shrug given, he folded the paper. "We'll stop by the shopping center on the way, but be quick about it."

"Fine by me after coffee. Otherwise I’d be dragging my rump back to the car.” Fumbling through the cabinet, she winced as two mugs clanked against one another.

She was under his microscope. "Are you sure that you are fine?” He asked. It was almost out of his normal character. _‘Not that I care…well I do care enough that she’s not going to go OD from the contents of my medicine cabinet.’_

Jill nodded, half and half added to a mug glossed in onyx. “Yeah, I’m just grateful to have my throat still. I owe you a lot.” A pause as she took a sip from the mug, the heated liquid nipping at her lips. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Miss Valentine.” He sounded almost tired as he dropped the paper on the table. A heavy sigh and his wire rimmed glasses were dropped on top.

 She still seemed to have a great deal on her mind, silence filling the air between them before they left.

Heading for the front door, he could almost feel the woman right on his heels. Allowing her passage, he sidestepped and locked the door as they departed. Once in the car, she remained quiet. Albert didn’t really bother to strike up any conversation. She needed her space to think and collect herself. Silence continued at the shopping center, Jill returning with much the same expression as before only with a pair of boots in her possession. She didn’t offer much of a reason for her quiet as the pair of tall brown boots was tossed on over her feet. Two miles from the RPD she finally spoke.

“Dad always told me that…’Ten minutes is four hours to a woman’. Mom used to drive him nuts by taking too long in the bathroom.”  


The blonde nodded once. “I know you fear for him.” The sun reflected harshly from the rim of his sunglasses as the car made a sharp turn left.

Jill was left to continue picking up the pieces of herself as silence ensnared the interior of the car once more.

Arriving at the RPD, the pair made their way past several uniforms who were occupying the front lobby. A few offered greetings to the captain and a look to the woman following him. Jill still felt that everyone was staring at the damage done to her face. _'I look like a hot mess…'_ Her gaze set forward, she marched on behind Wesker. He was a perfect shield to hide behind.

A rather burly looking man approached wearing a red vest over a tight white shirt. "Hey Captain, have you seen Brad?" Stopping short, he tossed a glance to Jill before his eyes returned to Wesker.

"No Barry, I haven't. You might want to check the helipad." The reply was brief and Albert continued moving without so much as pausing. Whatever the bearded man had to say, it was muted out once the door swung open to the S.T.A.R.S. office.

Several members of the team were scattered throughout the room; busily working, chatting it up… or arm wrestling in Chris and Forest's case.

"Well, I'm glad to see the zoo survived without me." The only thing he said, but the sound of Wesker's voice seemed to slice right through the room and grab everyone's attention. With that done, all of their eyes then went to Jill.

' _Not again. I may as well be shaking a tin cup here…'_ She thought, a hand awkwardly rising to shadow the bruise on her eye.

"Get back to work, folks. Forest, please find Brad and top off the helicopters in case we're lifting off tonight. Tell Enrico to go ahead and brief the crew slotted." With that, Wesker somehow navigated to his desk for something. Everyone in the way quickly cleared out. Seemed that he was almost feared in this room… Top dog in a box of puppies.

Albert didn't need to tell the lanky boy-man twice, as the arm wrestling match was over once Forest's attention was drug from Chris to the team's slave driver. Sighing, the long haired Forest Speyer grabbed his jacket and made for the door, Redfield taunting him the entire way out. His only reply was shooting Chris the finger.

A girl dressed in white and green poked her head in from the hallway. "Captain, Chief Irons wants to see you."

' _Lovely! I wonder why the land whale wants to get a case of the ass with me today.'_ The blonde thought angrily, plucking a file from the desk. A nod given to the girl, he replied, "Tell him that I will be there in two minutes." File placed in front of Chris, Wesker's gaze fell upon the brunette. "Chris, take her statement, leave it on my desk."

Half paying attention, Chris' head swiveled to meet Captain Wesker's gaze. "Who?"

"Her!" Pointing to Jill, it was becoming clear that this might end up being a bad day for the S.T.A.R.S. team. Without another word, the captain exited the room. All was silent, for about five seconds.

"Way to be on your 'A' game, Chris! I thought we would be able to go one day without Captain Wesker throwing a stapler at you." A bandana wearing man in the back said. Joseph Frost. The entire room burst into laughter afterwards, excluding Jill and Chris.

"Yeah, Ed go ahead and take down the one day that we accumulated for 'Days gone without an incident'." The baritone voiced man in the far corner said, chuckling intensely. Kenneth Sullivan is who Jill would know him as one day.

"Aww! It looked so nice on our wall." The man who must have been 'Ed' said.

Seeming tired of the taunting, Chris climbed up from his seat. "Come on, we'll do this in the questioning room." He offered a kind smile to the woman, gesturing to the door. More jokes made at the expense of Chris were uttered, though ignored.

"Alright, right behind you." She replied, following after the taller man out.

In Chief Irons' office, Wesker was pondering bashing his skull against the statue situated within the ridiculous looking room.

"…And whose permission did you have to take this upon yourself? The last thing I need in the papers is that the man who I put as leader of S.T.A.R.S. two years ago has tendencies to run the countryside butchering mobsters!"

_‘Completely incorrect…’_

"Another thing! Chief Stone said that you maimed the two that lived. For fuck's sake! What am I going to do when the press gets their fingers in this?"

Arms folded, Wesker finally spoke. "It would be rather difficult for me to fill the last slot within my team if the recruit I desired to have vanished without a trace."

"…What?"

"You heard me. None of my team can crack a simple combination lock, let alone a vault or even a door if needed. Her skills are an asset that I cannot ignore. She was taught by the best and is the best after her father finishes rotting in jail." His voice was cold as ice, though spoke some truth.

The chief finally sat down, huffing a bit. "You expect me to believe that you really want to hire a criminal's daughter because they taught her the tricks of the trade? We could hire a locksmith with a clean record if you want someone that can bust into a vault or locked down compound. You are expecting a Waco massacre?"

Albert’s stare shifted, a smirk polishing his lips at the large man’s expression. "Yes, I do, to answer both of your questions. That cult loitering in the mountains is making the mayor nervous. She gives us the advantage and this keeps her from ending up becoming someone we chase in the end.” He let that sink in for all of five seconds. “It's your call, I suppose if you’re going to fuss over crimes that haven’t even been committed by her hands..."

"I suppose I can see where you're coming from." Irons said with a sigh. "Next time, just let me know and we'll follow the proper procedure for handling this."

To keep himself from just causing Brian Irons' face to collapse in from trauma due to a paperweight being slammed against the tubby man's skull repeatedly; Wesker cleared his throat, nodded and left the office. There was nothing to be said at that point. Fat ass thought he had a clue how to do anything brighter than wipe his ass, and he honestly didn't. Wesker had built S.T.A.R.S., not Irons. Marching down the hallway, the captain nearly knocked a traffic cop over who was carrying a few boxes.

In the interrogation room, Chris sat at one end of the table as Jill resided at the other. Thumbing through the pages, he finally glanced up to her. She was absently biting at her thumbnail, a shiner visible in the single light of the room hovering its glare over the table. "So, what happened to you?"

"I was attacked by men who were trying to frame my father at my house in Denver. It's on Parker Avenue…"

"So, why are we taking your statement? Shouldn't this have been done in Denver?"

To that question, Jill just shrugged. She really had no clue. “I’m not the police officer here.”

Sighing, Chris began to fill out the sheet. "Okay, so why would these men frame your father?"

"Because he stole things for them."

"Such as?"

"Drugs, gold, diamonds… Anything they wanted and could pay for."

"Why frame him?"

"They killed some people… I heard them boasting about it in the kitchen after I barricaded myself in my bedroom. Probably didn't want to pay him either."

Redfield quickly jotted down everything that she said, nodding. "Anything else? Miss…?"

"Valentine. Jill Valentine."

Sitting back, Chris blinked. "Wait wait.. Valentine? Who's your dad?"

"Dick Valentine, why?"

"Wow, he's been all over the news. I mean, he's known for being…pretty good at what he does." The brunette man said distantly. "Sorry to hear that happened to him and you." Subject dismissed, though it seemed she felt a bit better with someone who was sympathetic. "I need to know how you ended up with the cut and bruise."

"Short Colombian man… His name was Marco. Don't know a last name, was too busy trying to avoid having my throat slit. He was shot dead."

"Ah, I heard a little about what Captain Wesker did." Leaning against the table, Chris wrote more on the paper before him.

To that comment, her brows lifted. "What's that supposed to mean?" The expression written on Jill's face was of disgust and confusion.

  
"Well, he… Oh." Redfield's stare met hers and he instantly backed down. "There are a lot of rumors flying about the PD about what Wesker did."

"He saved my life."

"Why would he drop everything and drive all the way to Denver to handle this? That's what nobody has figured out."

"Because she is my new recruit. Is that a problem, Chris?" The captain's icy voice rang out in Jill's defense. He had entered the room silent as death, which always made Chris uneasy. Leaning against the wall near the door, arms folded over his broad chest, Captain Wesker had been watching them for a while. The man seemed completely at ease aside from his frosty expression with the fires of anger slowing seeping out. The usual sunglasses perched on top of his head; steel eyes were burning a hole in Chris' head. "Come on, Jill. That's all you needed to tell him."

Rising from her seat, the woman nodded and followed the captain out of the room as soon as the door swung open. Dumbfounded, she said nothing else. Had he just lied for her or was that true? _'Oh the irony… Being a cop.'_

"Fax that statement to the Denver PD, Chris. I'm gone for the rest of the day." With that, Wesker and Jill were gone, the door slammed as the pair exited. Sometimes, Chris swore that the captain really hated him deep down. Returning to the office, Redfield couldn't keep himself from feeling like a bit of an ass for offending her. Frankly, he thought it was pretty amazing that the captain would step out of the judicial system's box to protect someone. Very unlike the captain, but it was admirable. Despite some bitterness between them, Wesker had won quite a few points in Chris’ book.

_'If she's a recruit, that means I'll have to face the music eventually. Great.'_ He thought with a sigh, turning the fax machine on. The number was scrolled on a post-it residing on Wesker's desk and he made haste to get the information sent off.

Back in the car, the two sat in silence for a few minutes. Sunlight danced over Jill's hands, warming them despite the chill in the air outside. Engine humming softly, it was the sound that filled the dead quiet otherwise while the blond thumbed through a few manila folders he’d brought along. Finally, she spoke.

“I’m sorry that I’m turning your life into a circus. Didn’t really know what I’m supposed to tell them…” Her apology was followed by blue eyes veering their gaze over to him. “I…”

 Cutting her off, hand raised and expression smoothing over with a smirk, he dropped the subject. "It's fine. There is too much going on for me to expect perfection out of you. However, when it comes to work…well…"

"You were serious?" She blurted out, brows knitting tightly.

"I was and am. You're the legacy of your father's trade and I would hate to see that going to waste because the honor among thieves is only a legend in these modern times. S.T.A.R.S. deals with all sorts of disturbing groups who seek to wreck the peace of Raccoon City and the small townships around the mountain range.” His eyes kept to the row of buildings across from the RPD.

“I was working on my criminal justice degree before all of this happened.” She had to laugh at the thought.

_‘What a surprise… Not really, Dick couldn’t keep that little bit of information a secret when you started years ago.’_

“Let’s see if your credits transfer. You can finish up what you need and then possibly join unless you change your mind.” Grayed eyes peering over at her, his tone turned serious. “We’re even if you join S.T.A.R.S., Jill. I need talent to keep the mountains clean of crime. You could do a great deal of good saving lives. Orange isn’t a good color for you, and you strike me as a patriot even if your background is darker than most.” He loathed having to throw this ‘star-spangled-banner’ bullshit in the air.

Jill was left speechless, and the threat held within spoke volumes to her. _'Isn't a threat… He's being honest. Don't exactly have a set of skills from schooling that would allow me to do more than work in a diner, sign up for the military, or practice five-fingered discounts until I finish my degree. Still…do I really want this? Forensics was where I was hoping to go.'_

"I won't lie, there is quite a bit of danger that we run into. However, red tape is to a minimum and you're not waiting for a warrant to reach a judge in order to search a building for guilty parties. Most of that is handled long before boots are on the ground. If you decide that you don't like Raccoon City, I can easily help you pick up and join another branch of S.T.A.R.S. anywhere in the United States."

"I..No! I wouldn't want to leave Raccoon City. Dad is serving his sentence here from what you said…"

"Understandable. Well, should I consider this confirmation that you will take the offer when the time is right?"

Nodding, she smiled and peered out the window at a couple cops making their way across the parking lot. It all felt too good to be true. Same with him…frankly. He made her feel safe and secure. These thoughts consumed her as they left the RPD, only nods and small phrase answers given to what he spoke to her about. It was mostly about her getting settled in before summer, degree finished before the fall, then it would be off to the police academy for eight weeks. After that, training with him would begin and it was during that time she would learn everything of value when it came to being a member of S.T.A.R.S.

Either way, she felt more secure than ever before. "Thank you, Albert."

"Mm, of course. Though once you begin working in S.T.A.R.S. I hope to establish a residence for you far from mine. People talk. You and I know there is nothing between us, but the vast majority love gossip. The town rumor mill, you know.”

Her eyes met his, and there was no hiding the red that sketched over her cheeks at the thought. "Agreed. Anything else I should be aware of?" She asked, head pitching its stare out the window to avoid further embarrassing herself.

"Not to my knowledge, aside from not picking the lock on my front door anymore. I'll have a key made for you."

Giving him a look of 'Who, me?' the woman was blessed with a sour look from Wesker. "Fine." She said, defeated, twirling a stand of hair around one of her fingers, noticing they had arrived back at his home.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

“Your move.” Albert answered, taking a sip from his glass of bourbon while collecting an ivory colored pawn from the board.

“You’re killing my little army!” Jill huffed, moving her knight. “Bye bye, bishop.” Her wine glass had remained full for most of the evening. Annette’s gift of a bottle didn’t seem to go over too well with Jill either.

“You wanted to play. I was set to watch something mind numbing for a few hours.” The blonde snickered softly as his queen knocked the knight out of commission. “Check.”

“But we just started!” Miss Valentine quickly began examining the board. “Where?”

“Here, look at your king.” Bourbon polished off, the empty glass was rested on the table. “Set it up again, I’m going to make sure I didn’t burn dinner.”

Sitting back in the cozy chair, Jill’s expression radiated being torn between laughter and flipping the board. She settled for sipping on wine instead. “Dad taught me to play when I was seven, I didn’t think I’d be beaten in eight moves.”

“Perhaps I’m just lucky.” Something in his voice alerted her otherwise.

“There’s a difference between luck and skill. You’re clearly hustling the board.”

“Hustling chess?” He asked from the kitchen, the sound of a cabinet door being shut clapped against the air.

“It’s what is to sophisticated men as pool is to the drunk.”

“Charming.”

Laughing to his slightly bitter reply, she began to explore the living room. Paintings greeted her with earthy colors that matched along the bookcases. Her fingers strolled lazily over the several volumes of books that lined the case behind the couch. ‘The Tempest’ caught her eye, though Jill didn’t bother to pull the aged bit of literature from its place. Only pausing, she pondered over the story.

“We are what dreams are made upon…” A voice reached out to her in the dimly lit room.

Turning, her blue eyes flashed wide. Startled as always by her quieter companion, it didn’t stop her from exerting a smile to Albert.  “The clouds me thought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again.”

“Act three.”

“I’ve read it a million times. Sounds like you have too.” She muttered softly, the pads of her fingers favoring the gold lettering of the book before her hand dropped. “It seems that the story isn’t entirely wrong.”

One blonde brow rising higher than the other, he gazed at her through curious irises.

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” Turning to face him completely, her bruised eye was no longer shadowed.

Inside, he agreed to that notion.

Outside, he appeared as to think nothing of the statement.

Hours passed by, bourbon bottle and wine bottle both empty and they were finally sitting on the couch. He found comfort in whatever was most sedative to the brain on television while she scoured the pages of a beauty magazine that had been impossible to convince her to leave behind at the grocery store earlier.

All Albert knew was that he could smell the overpriced perfume samples on the pages. Overpriced perfume usually dabbed along the neck and wrists. His silver blued hues shifted to view her briefly. She was too busy reading.

_‘Probably some article about how to please a man and get his credit card. Those magazines are fucking evil.’_ He thought, absently clicking to another station. Rap music.

“BUY THIS!”

“This will take off ten pounds in a week!”

“Channel surfing?” She had taken notice apparently.

“Fifty stations, nothing on.” He finally turned to the news, dropping the remote.

Brows knit; she shifted her feet uncomfortably on the cushioning. Toes curled, she reached out to relieve some unknown cramp. To her surprise, his nearest hand gently pushed hers aside. Appendage in tow, the foot soon was cradled between two palms. Eyes met, she smiled faintly. He didn’t return the facial gesture, gray eyes locked onto her. Hesitation and then his eyes darted their stare back to the television.

She laughed softly, cheeks flushed and eyes returning their gaze to the magazine. As quiet as a church mouse, she allowed his hands to take the other foot in tow a moment later to relieve tensions that built along its arch.

“You have a collapsing arch.” He commented after letting the foot rest along his thigh.

“Yeah…I do.” She really had no idea what that meant, the pounding of her heart drowning out all other thought.   _‘What did he say?’_

 

* * *

The constant tapping of Jill’s fingers against the table finally caused Annette to reach across and gently rest her palm over the younger woman’s. “Relax, girl. You’re starting to make me jittery.” The small coffee shop the two agreed to meet at was busy as ever. Aside from the chatter of patrons, there were the birds singing in the squatting trees that dotted along the gated outdoors portion of the shop. It had been two weeks since Jill arrived in the city. Bruises were healed well enough that she felt it safe to be in public.

“Sorry…” Jill offered, retracting the hand to her lap. “I’m just not used to being out of the house without six feet of angry Aryan on my heels.” The cooling cup of coffee was plucked up and a sip taken by Valentine. Though she wouldn’t openly admit it, nothing else made her feel safer.

Annette chuckled at the thought. “I know the feeling, though it’s usually me scaring anyone that bothers Will. He always says I have a banshee scream when severely upset.”

“Not a bad thing.” The cropped haired brunette said absently while shifting the cup of coffee around with one digit. The cookie on the saucer nearby was forgotten.

“No, it’s not. How was the trip to the RPD? Were you as disgusted by Chief Irons as I was originally?”

“I…didn’t meet him. Met most of S.T.A.R.S. but that was it. Since then, I really haven’t been anywhere. We played chess last night.”

Annette wrinkled her nose at that remark. “You…and he played chess? Don’t tell me I need to dump you both off at a nursing home.”

A broad grin found Jill’s lips at the remark. “No, there was nothing on TV and we just talked about Shakespeare and played chess. He’s a poor sport after I figured out his strategy and began to beat him.”

That caused the Birkin woman to snort. “Well, now I know his weakness. Chess…” She flashed a pearly grin before taking a drink of her coffee. “I do have to say it is nice to see that Albert isn’t roaming bars or calling me at five in the morning because he’s too drunk to drive. Calls me ‘Nutty Netty’ when completely smashed.”

“He seemed different at the police station, almost a completely different person in the presence of people there.” Jill finally remembered the cookie, breaking off a corner of it to eat. “Very chilly.”

“Well, he doesn’t exactly find much common ground with those people. Does he really appear to be someone that calls people of their caliber a ‘buddy’?” Jill’s head shaking ‘No’ caused a smirk to fix to Annette’s lips. “As I’ve said a million times, I’ve known Albert for _years._ It’s hard to earn his trust and he rarely comes out of his mental igloo.” Annette’s expression seemed torn. “He’s like a big brother to me. A drunken idiot big brother who buries his skeletons every time he wakes up to face the day. He’s…been through a lot.”

“I see…” Miss Valentine found her eyes wandering about to the street nearby.

“I’m just glad to see that you are doing better. I haven’t made many friends in years.” Annette said happily, reaching into her purse for a cigarette. Lighting up, a plume of white left her lips. “Always great to have a girlfriend that can break into my car if I lock my keys in it.”

Jill laughed. For the first time in what felt like forever, she genuinely laughed.

* * *

 

 

Annette’s station wagon, which was dubbed by the Birkin woman as the ‘shaggin’ wagon’, crept up the driveway of Albert’s home. Two cars parked, though neither paid much attention to that fact until Jill tried her key in the lock.

“Deadbolt is engaged.” Jill muttered after turning the knob a few times. Odd, he never locked the house while she was out.

Annette, having lit up another cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke. Knocking her slim fist against the door a few times, she sighed. “Well… I guess that’s that. Probably has one of his little playmates visiting from Denver. My place? I’m sure I have wine and we can watch ‘Stealing Beauty’. Have you seen that movie? I never was much for British films until I saw it.” Turning and strolling down the driveway back to her car, it was only once she was at the driver’s door did she notice Jill hadn’t followed.

_‘Shit.’_ “Jill?”

No response. The brunette was just staring at the door.

_‘What did you really expect? His life didn’t begin the moment you showed up. Don’t be stupid. She’s probably gorgeous…’_

 “Jill Valentine!” Annette yelled, reaching through the rolled down window to honk the horn. Annette didn’t give a flying fuck if she interrupted Albert. Half the neighborhood’s population of dogs began barking. “I don’t want to end up on COPS again because your little crush on your roommate started a cat fight!”

Valentine gave a bit of a jump, brought back to reality by the sound of the horn. Hand off the knob, she stalked down the driveway. Hood drug up on the RPD sweater she wore, her face was hard to read.

“Fuck…” Annette groaned, seating herself in the driver’s seat.  Engine cranked, her eyes shifted to Jill’s expression. Whatever storm had been swirling in Jill’s mind, it seemed to have calmed. “It’s nothing new.” The blonde woman grumbled and threw the car into reverse. “He’s…just like that. Guess we should have called before we left.”

Once on the highway, Jill finally spoke.

“Nothing was going on. I don’t know why I reacted like that.”

“Sure.” Annette allowed the girl to convince herself of that. “Nothing at all.” A fake but bright smile on the scientist’s face held its position until they made it to the first light. “I know it’s hard to be alone. We’ll go out tonight. Give you a chance to meet some people.”

No objection from the passenger’s seat.

* * *

 

 Jiggling the key in the lock, Annette finally got the old oak door to finally open. “Need to get that changed out.” She was quick to drop her purse and keys on the nearest coffee table.

Jill stepped in shortly after, welcomed by the smell of cinnamon and apples. The Birkin house was not lavish, but it was cozy. Old house, new carpets and drapes, antiques shelved carefully. The Valentine girl could only imagine the humorous arguments held between the couple during such a task of turning a house into a home. They probably made movies like ‘The Money Pit’ look stale in comedy. Striding after Annette, she found herself standing in the kitchen. Coffee dominated in scent here, fresh and still brewing.

“Will?” Annette called up to the stairs near the dining area. Sighing happily, the blonde woman quickly retreated to a cabinet to retrieve a couple mugs. “Must be busy.”

“I don’t want to impose…” Jill began.

“Nonsense, you are always welcome in my house.” A steaming cup offered to the brunette, Annette was doing her best not to snap. Not at Jill… that was obvious. “WILL!”

“What?” William soon appeared at the base of the stairs, Sherry in his arms. The sight of him about made both women have a stroke from laughter. Red derby cap, crazy bowtie and a tweed jacket that was two sizes too small, he was a sight. “We were having a tea party!” Sherry was attempting to tug off the rabbit eared headband from atop her head.

Annette almost choked on her coffee, snickering up a storm. “I can see that. Taking your character a little too seriously?”

Will screwed up his face at the question. “Tea parties are serious business.”

“Whatever, Mad Hatter. Jill is staying with us tonight.”

The male Birkin’s expression dropped. Putting Sherry down, he gently patted the girl on the head before letting her run off to play more. “And… why? Not that I have a problem with it.”

Annette shrugged mildly. “She’s been cooped up in that house ever since she got here and he’s apparently occupied.”

_‘More like playing with one of his chew toys…Going to blow all of this over a piece of ass.’_ A sigh contained, Mrs. Birkin took a drink from her mug of coffee.

“I see…” The cap was tossed off and onto the kitchen table. “Well, welcome to our home, Jill. I sleep walk, so please don’t hit me if I come shambling by in the hall in the middle of the night.”

Annette shook her head after Jill had excused herself to the bathroom that was down the hall on the left. “Call him. He’s not fifteen. I don’t think that’s appropriate at all considering the situation.” The blonde woman sat her cup on the table. A pointed look given to William, his wife couldn’t have looked any more annoyed.

Letting his head sink between his shoulders, Will sighed. “Fine.”

* * *

 

 Knocking on the door, William jammed his hands back into the pockets of his slacks. Two cars still parked were accompanied by a third, his own. Ringing the door bell, his scruffy features were casual and calm. Nothing about any of this surprised him anymore. Not much of anything did that trick. Two minutes passed, the door unlocked and Birkin raised a brow. “Yikes. Is that a man?”

The wavy haired woman that had her arms looped around a half dressed Albert Wesker screwed her face into an expression of utter rage before she retreated inside, cursing up a storm at such an insult. Leave it to Will to ruin her pipedream of more time between cool sheets.

“Really Will?” Hand dropped from the side of the door, the blonde man lumbered back inside the house. The woman was out the door with a pile of her clothing just as Will was about to step in.

“Jackass.”

“You’re gross.” Will cackled as he strolled inside. Once in, he locked the door behind him. Keys dropped on the bar, he stood at the edge of the living room. “So… I’m supposed to get clothing for Miss Valentine. I guess she and Annette stopped by…and you forgot to tell them you were having company.”

Wesker was sitting on the couch, head in his hands. Too much in his head to be put into words. A nod given to Will and he sat back.

“You alright?”

Another nod.

 “You sure?” Brows raised, Will stepped closer. Hands previously jammed in his pockets found their ways to his sides.

“Yes, I’m sure William.” Gazing up at Will, it was written all over his face.

_‘What a load of crap, Al.’_

William sat down on the couch next to his long-time friend. “The last time I saw that look on your face, you’d just been removed from a project.”

“I just spent forty-five minutes listening to how upset that woman was that I didn’t answer the phone when she called me last. I had finally coaxed her to do more than bitch when you started banging on the door.”

“Well, ain’t I just a pal?” William gave the other man a bright grin.

A faint twitch of a grin appeared on Wesker’s lips before he sighed deeply. “The best one, William.”

“So, I guess your girl and Annette stopped by. Annette is having her lady issues or something.”

An eye roll and Albert pitched his stare towards the open blinds of the den. “Not my girl and who knows. Annette has always questioned my ability to keep things under control. I’ll talk to her…eventually.”

Will chuckled. “So, that dude with the long hair that left… Is she a regular?”

“If you didn’t scare her off…” Albert’s annoyed stare fixed on William’s face.

Shrugging, William got to his feet. “Alright, then I think I’ll keep my nose out of things.”

Smirking, another eye rolling was blessed William’s way. “It’s not you that has your nose dug five feet deep into this. You’re just the messenger.”

“I don’t think Annette is entirely wrong, though I don’t want to tell you how to run your life. We need to keep her in sight at all times. There’s a lot left to do and we hardly have the manpower to do it. It’s a godsend that we can exploit this one.”

“I know, William. All roads lead to Hell, we’ll get there one way or another.”

Giving his knuckles a crack, the scraggly scientist gave a sigh. “You don’t have to shoulder this all alone. She is more than welcome to stay with us after everything Dick has done. That way you can go back to a semi-normal existence. You don’t exactly have the space here for another person anyway, especially if you don’t want some doe eyed girl making kissy faces at you the longer she’s here. Plus, little moments like this where you’re occupied...”

A mild shrug was the only reply given. His stare remained fixed on the open door to his bedroom. A perfumed pillow had made things…difficult while his companion had visited. Her absence itself had made itself quite the unwelcome guest that prodded his attention the entire time.

_‘She needs to go away.’_

“Fine, William. I’ll trust you both to keep an eye on her.”

Will beamed, hands jamming into his pockets as the pair made their way to the front door. “What could go wrong?”

“A million things. Just keep her in your sight.”     


	7. Chapter 7

_The bar was one that could only be defined as a ‘dive’, yet her blonde companion couldn’t resist the chance to mingle with the singles on her behalf. Drug in by a hand not holding to a steel grey clutch, the comments of this being a ‘bad idea’ were drowned out by the blare of music, smoke, and voices._

_“She just got to the city and has been staying with friends. Poor girl was cooped up for weeks!” Annette practically yelled over the drone of music to a couple younger guys._

_“Do a shot with him! Go on!” The blonde ignored any protest, doing what she did best. Best as a friend, anyway._

_“Oh! You should take her out for a dance.” Jill left the floor after the fourth partner had stepped on her toes one too many times. Met with Annette’s pouting expression and a full martini glass, Valentine elected for alcohol over men.  She drank away her thoughts. Drank away the pain of losing Dick. Drank away the agony of losing her home and friends._

_It wasn’t until about three in the morning that he found her. They talked. He smiled and so did she. They danced. It was as easy as before in his arms. They drank. Dear God, did they drink. Shot after shot, she held her own._

_“Taking you home.”_

_She didn’t refuse._

* * *

 

Sunlight crept through the blinds, icy irises greeting them with a squinted stare as Jill awoke.  Stirring, she gripped her head with a grim expression.  Hang over, what a thing to wake up to.

“How much did I have last night?” She asked the room around her, quickly realizing she was not in her own bed.

“About ten shots.” A graveled voice replied from under the gray blankets.

Jill thought she was going to jump out of her skin. Gaze down, she gasped and quickly clutched to the sheets. “I’m naked…” Dumbfounded or still drunk, the observation was put out there.

The blankets turned down, a very tired looking dark brunette in his late twenties sat and then rose up. “Yes, you are. Great body, though you didn’t really know how to use it last night.” Coffee was poured and offered to the short haired brunette. “You were this close to letting me tattoo you last night, too.” He said with a grin that stood out boldly against his stubble and tanned features.

Handsome, lean and nearly six feet tall, Jill could only visually eat up every inch of his form. Tattoos lined amid the toned flesh of his arms and pectorals. His face retained youth, despite his years and his nose showed signs of once being broken and mended to the best of a physician’s ability.

Eyes wide, she took the offered drink and sipped slowly. The heat nipping at her lips caused her to inadvertently roll her tongue over the pouty appendages. “I did? Wow, I must have been really drunk. Are we still in the city?” Concern was growing fast in her gut.

She had thought that Al-… _‘I will never drink again.’_ She would admit to herself that a bit of disappointment was lingering despite that her company looked like he walked out of a romance novel. This man wasn’t the Aryan. Aphrodite hissed her displeasure in the back of the woman’s psyche.

His green eyes shifted from her to one of the windows. “Uh… yeah, actually we’re close to downtown. I work right around the corner from here.” Rising once more, he made for the window.  “You can see it from here.” Wagging a finger to the woman, he smiled a bit wider when she gathered the sheets and joined him.

Jill just stood there with a horrified expression as he pointed out the RPD to her.

“Yeah, that’s where I work. I’m a cop… Well, traffic cop right now. Thinking I may make detective if I play my cards right in the next decade.”

_‘This is wrong. This was so wrong! This isn’t me!’_

His story would have to wait, as the sound of a cup breaking on the floor was followed by the cropped haired brunette woman frantically was dressing.  “Where ya goin’, sexy? Thought we could actually go do something today.”

Jeans zipped, she shook her head and went to snag her jacket from the floor. He caught her quick with a hand on the leather sleeve. “I have to go!” She practically yelled as she jerked the coat away. Slipping it on, she rushed for the door.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Finding some appropriate underwear slowed the dark haired man from following. Regardless, he was down the stairs once they were found. “Stop! Come on, give me a chance.”

She did, one floor below him looking up. “What? I don’t even know your name!”

He smiled the goofiest little grin she had ever seen. “It’s Kevin. Kevin Slade.”

Jill just kept walking.

“I know your name is Jill Valentine. I know you’re new to Raccoon City and went out with a girlfriend last night. Friend kept saying that you were brooding over some family issues and needed to cut loose.” He was skipping stairs to catch up.

“So what?”

“So, you went home with me after we had a blast. Stole traffic cones and left them in all the parking spaces at the RPD. I’m sure that’ll be hilarious come Monday.”

She stopped again, snorting. “That sounds like me.”

“We put it to the man.” His boyish grin’s warmth could have melted ice caps.

Two seconds and she was heading down another flight of stairs.

“I know you’re lonely. I am too. I told you all of this last night but you must have been black out drunk. Just came to Raccoon City a month ago from Chicago.”

It didn’t stop her, though his hand on the door leading outside certainly did. “Are you kidding me?” She barked.

“No, I’m not. I like you. You’re rebellious but not the kind that ends up in jail over it.”

“Well, that’s fabulous. Can I go?”

His expression dropped and so did his hand. “Yeah, you can go.”

Jill stared up at him, her expression cracking as much as his ego had been by her rush to go. She couldn’t keep herself preoccupied with thoughts of Albert. He may have saved her life but that was it. It had been done due to his friendship with her father, she knew that much. He was cruelly handsome but out of her league, she knew better. He would never want her in reality, they were two moons of Jupiter: as unalike as any could have ever imagined. “Look, let me give you my number. I do need to get home so nobody thinks I died.”

Kevin snorted a bit. “I’m not desperate.”

Her nose wrinkled at that. “If you don’t want it…”

“No! I didn’t say that, but not out of charity.”

“It’s not charity.” Her deadpan expression destroyed that theory. “If we had that much fun, I could go for another round of disorderly conduct while not being blackout drunk.”

“How about tonight, then?” Kevin winked slyly at her.

Jill’s face finally began to crack her usual smile.

 

* * *

Albert stared blankly from across the table at William. His mood was not the warmest this morning. “Where is she, Will?”

“Dunno. She and Annette went out last night. When Annette came home, she attacked me in bed and said nothing about it.”

“I don’t need the details of your sex life.” The blonde growled in icy tones.

To that, William threw up his hands. “She’s an adult, Nanny Patrol! We can’t treat her like a hostage. Well, we could but she’d probably not be very happy with that. Unlikely to help us and all that. Annette will be up soon. We’ll find out then. In the meantime… What’s our outlook on Dick ending up in a cellblock where we can ‘visit’?”

“Not very good if Ms. Valentine cannot be found as her possible testimony could turn the dice in our favor and lower the charges against her father,” he sighed deeply. Sunglasses dropped on the table, a hand worked at the skin of his temple. “Give Spencer a call when you have the chance. Tell him that I have Dick on hand in case that new privately funded hospital doesn’t hop on board with Umbrella.”

William raised a brow. “Why?”

“It’s very simple, Will. Umbrella has a monopoly on medical care in Raccoon City. If you don’t go to Umbrella, you may as well start digging your own grave.  A competing hospital would be expected. This is America and competition keeps prices low. However, in the case of an outbreak in Raccoon City it is the hospitals where the ill and dying end up. Records of blood work and the like are stored there and sent out to the CDC. A private hospital has no need to report its patients to the board of Umbrella Corporation if they don’t _work_ for them before contacting the CDC.”

“I know all of that. Why are you worried about it?” Will seemed a bit shocked at the mentioning of it.

“I’m not. Spencer, however, is for good reason. Sometimes the pawn wears a king’s crown, William. May as well make use of it. Remind him why he needs to keep Valentine a free man.”

“But how would Dick be of any use to us in getting rid of competition?”

“Dirty laundry on the front page could be one way. Public opinion turns away, the hospital goes bankrupt and Spencer buys the building for Umbrella.” A pause, his face seemed serious. “Or...infect him with something very nasty and let it go wild in a hospital where they cannot handle weaponized small pox or Ebola. Papers speak of inmates being treated at this hospital ending up infected and the place goes under.” He looked to Birkin, sighing. “What do you think?”

“You sound like Spencer…” William uttered in a soft tone.

Albert had no reply to that.

Annette = sauntered in, bathrobe and fuzzy rabbit slippers. All smiles and red cheeks at William’s cheesy grin. She made a b-line straight for the coffee.

“Where is she, Annette?”

Steaming hot brown liquid poured into a cup, her star blue eyes lifted to Wesker. “Well, ‘good morning’ to you, too.”

His jaw locked, teeth aching from the pressure.

The blonde woman tipped her head skyward with a sigh. “She just called me from a payphone. She’s taking a cab and on her way here.”

“Where was she?” A game of twenty questions was in order.

Two spoonful’s of sugar and Annette took her seat with the other two. “She met a guy… He was that really cute cop that let me off with a warning a month ago.”

William chuckled a little bit.

“Jealous?” Her light wells of blue met his graying own.

Wesker bit the inside of his cheek bloody to keep from cursing her out.

* * *

Her key sliding into the lock was met by the door opening wide. Pacific met the Atlantic in a very even gaze.

“I was wondering when you would show up.” Wesker’s frosted tones sent a chill down the brunette woman’s spine. He shut the door behind him, the light of indoors that blinded her swallowed by the shadows of night. His attire of mostly black aside from the red wine scar that wrapped about his neck seemed fitting of his mood and the weather. Even his cologne smelled crisp with cold. His eyes did wander over the jeans, t-shirt and brown leather jacket she wore. A far cry from the women that normally were in his presence, he couldn’t help but find her normal to be abnormal.  “Would it be too much to ask that you inform me of your whereabouts?”

“I-…” Startled, Jill stepped back a few feet. “I’m sorry… I met some guy last night.”

He lifted a brow to that. “Just met some random man and decided to go home with him?”

“I’m twenty-three… Meeting at a bar is pretty normal for my age.”  Hands jammed into jeans, she shifted her stare elsewhere.

“So you just gave it up within two or three hours of meeting him?” Gloved hands slipping into his pockets, he shrugged. “I didn’t take you for an easy woman.” It bothered him a little too much. Somehow his perception of her tarnishing was…upsetting. The white dove molting only to expose a single black feather in its previously pristine plumage.

Her blue eyes dared to glare at him.

He offered her a hint of a smirk. It bothered her to disappoint him. No matter for now. “With the lack of space at my place, Annette and William have offered to give you a place to stay so we can avoid…” His stare lifted as he thought. “…any further complications. Now, I need to see you first thing in the morning for the hearing against your father’s employers. Wear something presentable, will you?” Albert strolled past, his shoulder bumping into hers in the process. His steamed breath rich in mint caught her by surprise. “Have a pleasant day, Miss Valentine.”

Anger rising, she glared back at his departing.

“Whatever.” She muttered under her breath. Door wretched open, she met the gaze of Will and Annette. She would continue to bury the feelings that tried to grow until they choked from no air. It began with the smile she gave the two. “Hope you two weren’t worried!”

 

* * *

Jill Valentine wasn’t afraid of needles, but she wasn’t ready for a tattoo. Seated in a somewhat uncomfortable chair, she idly browsed an issue of ‘Heavy Metal’ while Kevin was getting the finishing touches to a piece on his forearm done. The buzz of the shop went unnoticed as she tried to keep herself entertained. _‘No luck.’_  Magazine sat to the side, her stare went to the window.

“Bored, babe? We’ll be done in an hour.” Kevin didn’t seem too worried about his companion’s level of entertainment as he went back to talking to the busty red-head tattooing him.

“Right. I’m going to step outside for a smoke.” She was gone in a flash. The night air greeted her with its crisp cold. Fumbling with her cigarettes, the sound of a woman’s laughter caught her attention. Eyes up, she viewed a couple crossing the street. The woman she didn’t recognize, but the man…

“Chris?” She smiled as the brunette man suddenly turned at the mentioning of his name.

“Huh? Oh, hey… Jane right?”

“It’s Jill.” The short haired woman offered a wave as Redfield and his female companion approached. “Out for the evening?”

“Uh, yeah… Taking Monica to J’s for a bit. Didn’t expect to see you again, how have you been doing with..?”

“The trial is starting pretty soon. I got moved in with some local friends until I can find a house.”

“Ah, I see.” He replied, a smile gracing his stubbled features.

“I’m cold.” The woman who must have been Monica said between chattering teeth. Chris’s arm and laughter offered refuge from the cold.

“We’d best get going. It was good to see you, Jill.”

She nodded, lighting up her cigarette and inhaling. In mere moments, they were gone and the only company for Jill to have was the cold. It was only when she swore the tips of her fingers were threatening to fall off did she retreat back indoors to Kevin and the ink. 

Already donning his leather jacket, the taller brunette man gave the woman his usual grin. “I thought that wouldn’t last so long.”

“It’s okay,” she offered. Fingers lacing in his, Jill smiled in return. “You want to go to J’s?”

Kevin quirked a brow at her, fumbling for his wallet to pay the busty red-head artist for finishing his ink. “We can… I didn’t think you knew much about the city yet.”

A gentle shrug offered, Jill leaned a hip against the reception desk while change was offered up to her male companion. “I’ve… heard of it. Never went…”

The messy brunette haired man chuckled softly. “Not trying to interrogate you, sexy. We’ll go.” Wallet stowed away, he pecked a kiss against her lips before leading her out of the shop.

 

* * *

J's bar was your typical hole in the wall that took off due to bankruptcy from the competition. A lone neon sign indicated that Jill and Kevin had arrived at the correct place. Sounds of music and fellowship were muted until that wooden door was swung open. Immediately, cigarette smoke and seven types of cologne caught her sense of smell while music and loud conversation met her ears.

“I’ll go get us drinks.” Kevin shouted to her, giving her shoulder a squeeze before disappearing into the crowd.

Jill could only nod to him before letting her stare fall on the packed dive bar. Standing by the door, it didn’t take her too long to recognize Chris Redfield in the crowd along with a few other members of S.T.A.R.S. Just as she was thinking about approaching, her gaze and the gaze of Forest Speyer met. A devilish grin on his part and the long haired man waved her over to them.

“Look who it is kids!” Forest said as Jill approached. “Uncle Wesker know you snuck out of the house to come hang out with the bad kids?” Everyone burst into laughter at the question, Jill included. “I’m kidding, welcome to J’s, girly!” He'd already had a few, from the looks of it.

“Thank you… Umm…” She hunted for a name and came up with none.

Chris came to her rescue, shifting closer and pointing everyone out. “Forest Speyer, Joseph…”

Joseph gave a wave. "Hey there, I'm Joseph Frost. Alpha team's token bald man."

"Yeah, until you finally let it grow out and we see that you're a ginger, Joseph." Forest retorted, tongue stuck out before the wild man took a slurp from his beer.

Chris gave a roll of his dark eyes. “Brad’s coming back now… He’s Alpha Team’s pilot.”

Brad Vickers finally found his way back to the group, sporting his yellow jacket. Forest gave the man a bonk upside the head. "Hey! Say 'Hi' to Jill, Vickers." A shy nod and the man was staring up at the stage again. To this, Forest snorted. "He's got a thing for the lead singer of ‘Criminal Intent’. I think he'll finally get the nerve up to do more than just wheeze when she tries to talk to him."

"Shut up, Forest! If you knew anything about women, you'd know that I respect Joan."

"Okay, that made no sense. You keep trucking, Brad." The long haired brunette man replied with a snort. "Can I get you a beer, Jill?"

Kevin appeared from the crowd, slipping an arm around Jill. “Hey babe…” His eyes shifted up, then widened. “We’re partying with S.T.A.R.S.?”

The group began cracking up once again. “You didn’t know that you’re hanging on our last recruit?” Forest couldn’t help snickering up a storm.

The brunette traffic cop paled immediately, peering down at Jill “No shit? Well… I…”

Jill did her best not to smile, pride swelling as she took a sip from the bottle of Budweiser he’d handed to her.

“Oh look, Richard is on stage. RICHARD! YOU SUCK!" Looking to the group, Forest’s expression went deadpan. “I need another beer. Be back.” With that, he was gone to the bar.

"You'll have to excuse Forest," Brad said meekly, taking a seat at the table close to Jill and Kevin so he could look at the stage while conversing. "He's a bit of a dick but I don't think I would want anyone else to have my back in a bad situation other than him. He doesn't act his age, unfortunately."

Jill nodded, patting Brad on the shoulder. "I've met many of those, Brad. I think guys like you tend to do better in the long run."

Red devouring Vickers' face, he smiled and raised his glass to her. Shortly after, Forest returned with two beers.

The band finished setting up the sound system and a young woman appeared on stage in a black jacket and French braid. "Good evening J's Bar! Thank you for being here!" The woman was greeted by cheers and a bit of clapping.

"You suck, Joan!" Forest taunted, grinning wildly.

"What was that, Forest?" The girl on the mic said, one hand coming to rest on her hip.

"I mean, I love you Joan. You rock like Led Zeppelin, only you're a chick."

"That'd better be what you said. Anyway, tonight is karaoke night. As usual, I pray the drunkest out of all of you hit the stage and completely embarrass yourselves while my dad films it." The woman said with a grin, pointing to 'J', otherwise known as Jack, in the back who had a video camera set up. "Drink specials are on the chalk board, and I hope you all have a good time at our little hole in the wall."

It only took a few seconds for Forest to cook something up, grabbing Chris and heading for the men's room with two empty beer bottles in his possession. Jill could only shake her head, beginning to make idle conversation with Chris' date and Kevin who couldn’t stop straying his stare to her cleavage. This wouldn’t last long in Jill’s mind. Brad and Joseph joined in the little chat, as well. Kenneth Sullivan made an appearance, shaking hands and kindly greeting Jill with a chivalrous kiss to the back of her hand… until someone told him she was to join S.T.A.R.S.

"Hah! Better be careful, Daddy Bear. S.T.A.R.S. is expanding faster than any of us can keep track." Joseph said.

"I guess so." Kenneth said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Dressed in deep red, the spiced scent of his cologne drowned the stink of the smoke all around. "So, where are the two stooges at?" He asked absently, adjusting the very nice watch on his wrist. 

"Went to the bathroom to make out, probably." Brad said in a somewhat bitter tone. To this, Chris' date threw him a deathly glare.

"If looks could kill, Brad… You'd be a dead man." Joseph snickered.

A few people went up to the stage to sing, but it was when Forest and Chris rolled out that everyone began to die laughing. Redfield had what appeared to be a mop top parted to look like a wig on his head, and two beer bottles stuffed in his shirt to look like the biggest misinterpretation of breasts that Jill had ever seen. Once on stage, they began to sing "I've got you babe", which didn't help the situation for Chris' date. She seemed like a rather severe woman, not quite on the same level as Christopher.

"Babe! I got you babe! Dude, read the lyrics and quit playing with your hooters!" Forest said in dismay.

"I’m checking for lumps. Can't be too careful." Chris said with a laugh.

 With that said Forest tried to help only to have one of the bottles fall out and smash on the floor. "Aw! Look what you did!" Redfield said with a sigh, leaving the stage. Forest followed after, their usual boyish behavior resuming before Joan presented them with a broom and dust pan. Cleaning up, the taunting and childishness didn't cease.

"How did those two graduate?" Joseph finally asked, wiping a tear from his eye from laughing.

"Teacher passed them just to get them out of her hair, probably." Brad uttered, smiling as Miss Piper approached. "Hi, Joan."

"Hey Brad, I'm surprised you came out tonight. I thought you were flying."

"I flew today in the mountains." He replied, nodding. Everyone else in the group just stared, completely amazed by Vickers' inability to say more than a short sentence to this woman. Kevin couldn’t help but snort, tugging his leather jacket off.

Nodding in return, she shrugged a little. "That sounds like fun." Awkward silence ensued and she finally had to depart. "Well, I'll see you around." Striding off, she looked a little disappointed.

Forest's laughter alerted the group to the return of the dynamic duo. "'Oh Brad, I want you. Why can't you say anything that would let me know that you wanted me too?'" Speyer's impression of the woman only made the group laugh more.

"Brad, you just need to get a deeper voice around her. Nothing' gets a lady going like a deep voice. Could tell her that you spent half the day in the john and her panties would still fly off." Ken said with a chuckle.

"Brad's balls haven't dropped. Stop taunting him, Ken." Joseph scoffed, finishing his beer. "You'll get there one day, Vickers."

The taunting was too much apparently, as Brad walked off to the bathroom.

"You're terrible." Jill scolded with a snicker.

"We love Brad, but he needs a thicker skin." Forest said, paying one of the waitresses for another drink. "You good?" His question directed to Jill and Kevin.

Beer finished, she shook the bottle. "Empty." Kevin made the same gesture.

"Hah, alright." Paying the waitress for the other drinks, the long haired man took long look at the rest of the team. "Am I the only one buying her and her boy toy drinks? She's our rookie!"

"Hey, she’s not in yet and the last rookie we had was Brad and we all spent too much money to get him drunk and draw on his face in the bathroom." Ken said, taking a swig from his glass of whiskey. To that remark, Joseph snickered.

"We're not looking to get Jill tanked, Daddy Bear. Chris, buy the next round!" Forest said, giving his partner in crime a nudge.

"Huh? Yeah, sure." Redfield was too busy trying to keep this date hanging around to pay attention, apparently.

Looking at Jill, Forest pointed to Chris and shook his head with a comical expression. The only reply from Miss Valentine was a simple shrug. A few hours later, some more members of the team had shown up. Kevin, Ed, Enrico and everyone's favorite 'DD' – Rebecca Chambers.

"Ugh, you all smell of booze." The girl said with a sigh, giving a few members a hug before introducing herself to Jill. The two clicked, happily chatting while their teammates caught up on whatever else was going on in the world. Eventually, Ed joined their little conversation more so for Kevin’s sake of not being arm candy, and it was clear he was the apple of Rebecca's eye.

The night drawing to a close, Joan yelled for 'Last Call', receiving quite a bit of booing from the patrons. "I don't care! You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!" She said with a smirk, wiping down the bar top.

"You suck, Joan. Your bass player sucks too."

"Forest, I hate you!" She yelled, tossing an empty bottle into the trash can behind the bar. "If you weren't halfway done paying for my four year olds college in alcohol bought, I'd have thrown your ass in the street by now."

"Well, lucky me, eh?" Forest was a card, no doubt in that. A choke hold given, he knew Richard must have finally heard him. "Hey Richard. I didn't know you were here."

"Real funny, Speyer. Where's the rookie to be?" Richard Aiken asked, glancing to the several faces of the group.

Jill gave a wave. “Hi.”

A strange look formed on Aiken's face, as though he was trying to recall something. "Have we met before?"

Shaking her head, Jill shrugged. "Maybe, I was drug into the police station not long ago…”

"No… I'm not on day shift and I heard about that. Huh, I guess you just have one of those faces." Shrugging in return, he smiled. "Anyway, good to meet you."

Nodding, Jill polished off the last of her drink. Chris' promise was kept and another was placed before her. Blue eyes peering at the team, she was glad that the urge to not spend the evening alone had pushed her to attend.

"So, Jill. Dating anyone?" Forest suddenly asked, and this caused everyone else to groan. Kevin looked livid.

"I…" She began, looking to Kevin. For a pair of cops, he and Forest looked like a scuffle between them would be as rough as any found in a biker bar.

"Don't answer that!" Rebecca said with a sigh, tugging on Forest's nearest ear. "She is our teammate and she’s here with a date, ass! Sorry, Jill. Forest doesn't know where the line is drawn."

"He invented the eraser that gets rid of that line." Chris finally said with a snicker, getting up from his seat to follow his date out. The woman offered no goodbye or even acknowledgement to anyone who tried to bid her such.

"Now where are you going?" Forest asked, hands lifted up. No reply as the two left and the man sighed. "Chris and Miss Wrong. When will it ever work for him?"

"Oh stop, Forest. It isn't like Chris treats women like you do… Otherwise he'd deserve her wanting to leave." Miss Chambers said with a huff, a hand lifting to comb a few short strands behind her pierced left ear.

"True. You are a very wise woman, Rebecca. Thank you for showing me the error in my ways. I will find Jesus and the woman of my dreams now because of you."

A dirty look thrown at the man and she turned back to Jill to chat a bit more until the bar finally closed.

As the entire group stepped outside, more welcoming words were given to Jill by a group of people that she felt would be like family as the years passed. Hugs, handshakes and everyone began to disperse at last to head home.

Kevin sighed softly, arms folding about Jill’s waist as he peered down at her through wild green eyes. “S.T.A.R.S. huh? When were you going to let me in on that little secret?”

She smirked, giving him a little kiss. “Eventually,” the woman uttered, breaking away and grasping for his hand as the pair began to walk towards his car.

“So, does this mean you want to see me again?” His pearly smile all but made her melt as she looked up to him.

“Possibly, though we should take things slow. Getting to know one another that is.”

“Little late for that.” Kevin chuckled, unlocking the car.

“I’m meaning on a mental level.” Jill said with an eye roll, opening her car door and getting in. Kevin’s ‘Ooooh’ made her laugh, his devilish grin absolutely delicious. Leaning, Jill pressed her lips to his in a gentle show of affection. “Take me home, Kev.”

“Yes ma’am…” The car’s engine purring into life, they were gone in a matter of moments.

* * *

Two in the morning, coffee brewing in the corner on its squatting table, Albert quietly peered down at the testimony that was to be given later that morning. His mercy of not killing the two thugs may have cost him more than he realized. The questions were pouring in now as to why he’d taken such risk, broken so many rules. This would lead them back to Spencer and Umbrella if he didn’t play his cards right. A reckless move on his part…

_‘She could have died.’_

File dropped on his desk, he took a seat. Staring out through the windows of the RPD, the star littered sky offered no answers to him. Cell phone ringing, he lifted it to inspect the number. Monica… again. Muting it, he ran a palm over his face.

“Burning the candle at both ends?” A very aged and familiar voice swallowed the silence. Spencer.

Head tipping, Wesker peered over to the older man. “Mister Spencer, what do I owe this visit?”

Door shut, the old man stepped into the room. Finding a chair, he took a seat across from Albert. Every time the two met, Wesker swore Spencer looked a million years older. Despite his age, he was dressed well in a black suit. A single gold ring bearing the emblem of Umbrella glinted in the dim light of the room. “Where is she?”

“Safe.” Wesker replied.

“I’m glad you remembered how much I need her alive. William spent ten minutes explaining to me who she was before I finally remembered. Leverage is hard to find at times, even harder to remember at my age.” The old man reached into his coat for his pack of cigars.

Unreadable in expression, Albert’s eyes shifted to the file on his desk. “She’ll be here in a few hours to go over her testimony against Arvada.”

“That still will not explain away you, Albert. You showed your hand too fast in this game. Arvada is the last of my competition for weapons in South America… We should have used more caution.”

“She would have been gone before your precious ‘Hunk’ would have gotten to her… or dead.” Silver blued hues stared evenly at Spencer, golden pen rotated between surgeon’s fingers absently.

Ozwell’s expression radiated a smug air of knowing more than just what he appeared to. Typical. “She’s a special little lady… As long as she’s alive, everything will be fine. Dick is still useful even if he has to be on the run.” He lit up his cigar with a wooden match. “Arrangements need to be made to get rid of Arvada, he may jump bail and slip out of my reach temporarily. I’m assigning this little task to Hunk, so I need you to just keep up the charade of going to trial.”

Light brows raised, Wesker peered away. “I will.” Defeated, he was still Spencer’s errand boy even after all these years.

“Thank you for looking after the Valentine girl.”

“Of course.” The blonde uttered softly.

“I’m leaving for Russia. Keep in touch.” Not long after, Spencer was gone and Albert was left alone with his thoughts once more.

_‘Special little lady… Something is not adding up.’_

_‘Perhaps allowing William to play a role was a mistake. He has his own agendas…’_

A deep sigh and he took a swig from his coffee. Blue eyes peered into the depths of the cup as the taste of stale drink touched his senses. The decision had been made for his own comfort, of course. He wasn’t up to changing his lifestyle for a game of blood and broken hearts. Not yet, anyway. He was getting too old for that, even if his sex life had deteriorated from a different woman every night to just one or two on an erratic basis.

_‘It isn’t as though I hadn’t thought about it… Christ, if she bent over in front of me again it may have just happened.’_

“Who the fuck is putting traffic cones in my parking lot? WHY ARE ALL OF THE CAR ALARMS GOING OFF?!” Brian Irons screamed from the other side of the aged building.

Albert could only allow himself a little smirk as he leaned back in his chair. He had a good idea of who was the little mongoose that was making mischief in the land of serpents that was Raccoon City.


	8. Chapter 8

_**  
**_

It'd been almost a month since Jill had last made the trip to the two story house. Setbacks, court dates changed, it seemed Arvada's defense attorneys were fired and replaced every week.

She knocked four times before the door swung open. Two seas greeting one another in stare, the Pacific rolled its fury against its stoned beaches at the sight of a bruised mark upon a pale throat. "Out late again?" The words forked from his mouth in splinters of ice.

"You weren't at the RPD, they said I should look here." She ignored his tone, following him inside the house. It was much as she remembered it. Clean, beautiful, a place for everything and everything in its place. Purse set on the kitchen table, she felt unease washing over her as he slipped away to the back and into his bedroom. That room seemed to still give her all sorts of bad dreams lately. Thoughts of those dreams swam in her psyche of long digits slithering between one another. Hands shoved back into the pillows while heated breath gave way. The crisp smells of his-..

"Here" He stepped out into view, light brows rising at her face upon approach. The red hue of her face was curious, but Albert slipped past her towards the table without a pause.

Fingers on her face, Jill's eyes widened briefly. She followed his lead, taking a seat across from him at the table while he flipped open a manila folder. Nervous fingers tapped their nails against the oak surface. She ceased as Wesker cleared his throat absently, lost in the pages. He seemed to bear no sign of the man who gave her the cold shoulder before, relaxed in posture and movement. Put her on edge more and more as the clock ticked quietly on the wall.

Silver frosted hues lifted to regard her after a moment, sliding the folder and its contents over to her. "This was your statement. These are possible questions that the attorney may ask you when cross examining you. Appropriate responses are listed below each." Gold pen's tip pressed against the paper, he further elaborated. "The attorney that Mr. Spencer has paid to defend your father believes the ones I've written in red are the best answers to give, though I disagree with some. I've noted that on each. He'll be here in a few days to go over all of this with you again."

"Why are you doing this?" She suddenly asked. How badly she wished she could have taken it back as their stares met.

Albert lounged back in his chair, the gold pen clicked off. A hand running through his slicked blonde strands, he sighed. "What do you mean?"

' _Great…'_

"I mean… Why are you helping my father? I know that you both worked for Mr. Spencer for a time… It was the only time my father had a normal job."

Light brows popped, he viewed her passively. "Normal?"

"Dad worked as an accounting advisor for Mr. Spencer before he began stealing things. Was what he went to college for… I don't know why he quit working for Mr. Spencer. It was a normal life in Denver when he worked for Umbrella, even if he was working nights."

To this, Albert's gaze narrowed. "I'm aware of what his job was. I wouldn't call crunching numbers all day and night normal. Mad man's work. Tell me, Jill… What did your father say I did for Umbrella?"

"He said you worked in the information part of Umbrella. Computers and manned security for hospitals and the laboratories that made vaccines for the poor people who couldn't afford to go to a doctor."

' _Oh that's rich. Dick can write better lies than I can.'_

Regardless, he played along. "That is correct… Now then, my friendship with your father is why I am doing this. He uncovered quite a few bits of fraud that were happening and probably saved the Denver branch of Umbrella from going bankrupt. He saved my job. I never thought I could repay him for that. Mr. Spencer feels the same way, hence why he's picking up the check for the lawyer. Umbrella doesn't throw its friends away, no matter how many years separate employment from the present day." It wasn't completely a lie… Dick had run off every bit of competition to Spencer in Denver through bribes and planting evidence. A one man mayhem squad, leaving the rest of Umbrella to focus its claws to the world that lay open for the taking.

"What your father has done, I don't think any man could claim themselves better. He did it all to try to save your mother and ensure you had a future." That wasn't a lie either. Patty Valentine had put up a good fight against breast cancer, but lost when Jill was no older than fourteen. Albert had attended the funeral. A few friends and family in attendance under the chilly Colorado sky.

He was starting to realize the effects of losing her. Dick probably hadn't been around much, and her development into a woman was stunted at best. A confused girl trapped in a woman's body. Home life was more than likely trashed with Patty's death. Therapy was probably not something Dick put too much thought into investing in, or putting a female role model in the girl's life… Mrs. Valentine had been the brains of that dysfunctional family, no doubt.

' _Almost breaks your heart, doesn't it?'_

' _Not really.'_

She bought it hook, line, and sinker. Nodding, the woman absently brushed aside some brunette strands and set her focus on the papers. "Fair enough." Long fingers with lime green painted nails slipped over the pages as she flipped through and scanned the documents. "Okay, I can go over these…"

"Good, I'd hoped you would be able to find time to do that much. How about finishing your degree?" His stare shifted to the candle residing on the island of the kitchen. Red and spiced with the scent of cinnamon, its flame danced happily in the quiet home.

"Annette helped me get that figured out. William is giving me a lift there for my classes since he teaches one in the morning. Kevin picks me up on his way home from his shift."

Albert's stare twisted back to her. "Officer Slade. Good. So you're accounted for every step of the way. Even if you decided to sleep with the slimiest cop in the city." He sounded bored but his cruel eyes switched their stare to her insecure one, spinning the gold pen between capable fingers.

Slade was bright, but he was still white trash even with that badge. Worse than Redfield… and Wesker was already notorious for disliking Christopher greatly. Seemed that's what Jill ran with, almost as if that's all she knew. A bad boy that picked up drunken women and probably abused them later.

One thing the blonde should have remembered was the temper of a Valentine. "Do I look like I need your opinion?"

"That hickey says 'Yes'." A sly smirk slithered its way over his lips. "Aren't you a little old for these antics? Running off and fucking some random man, I mean."

"Like you have room to say a word. I was living here and you brought another woman in while I went out for coffee with Annette. Then you kicked me out with no explanation." She shut the folder with a glare.

"Pray tell, why does it matter? I thought you'd be more comfortable with the Birkins. They have plenty of room where I lack it." Heat bathed the blonde man's voice.

"You could have advised me at least and not kicked me out without explaining yourself. Also, if you were going to screw some random woman, you could have just told me. Even a hat on the doorknob would have been more than what you did."

"Is this a college dorm? Do you know how silly you sound right now?" His patience was wearing very thin very fast.

"Could have put her five-dollar bra on it then. Or did you need her to keep that on so you could get off?" She knew she was out of line, but really didn't care. The things we say when we are angry. He was pressing every single one of her buttons and there didn't seem to be any way out other than to become more vicious in word than the previous blow delivered.

"I should have let that slime ball take you. Waste of my fucking time dealing with a little bitch like you." He regretted it the moment it escaped him, but there it was. He found a way under her skin and she'd found a way under his skin. A shame it wasn't as positive as in the past. Tapping the tip of his pen against the table, his gaze set on her face.

Freezing, Jill stared at him through wide blue eyes. Red rimming, tears slipped free of those pools of cerulean. The war of words had been won. She was on her feet in a flash, the manila folder tossed in his face. "Maybe you should have." Papers fluttered helplessly to the ground.

His sedated posture alerted to how wrong he knew he was, despite the defiance in his stare at her.  _'She's going to walk out that door and you're never going to see her again.'_

Like a foretold notion, she did head for the door. The sounds of a woman trying to keep an iron exterior and failing swept through the air, following her like a ghost chasing her out. A hand on the doorknob, she gave it a twist and pull.

The sound of the door slamming very hard met his ears. On his feet, the blonde had every intention of subduing her. Wesker wasn't a man to abuse a woman, but she certainly was about to get the point.

A heavy sigh escaped the man as he approached the door. Spider webbing glass on the window showed seven versions of the furious woman marching off his lawn towards a car waiting on the other side of the street.

' _It's your fault, you know.'_

* * *

He barely had time to clean up the mess left behind before there was a knock at his front door. Monica, dressed to impress in a slinky gray dress. Her pearl smile disappeared under his mouth as the pair greeted one another in their usual gesture. An hour passed before a suggestion of Chinese food and an old movie came up. Monica selected 'Robin Hood' from the vast collection of old films Wesker had accumulated over the years.

' _Figures. I get the angry little thief out of my house only to have to sit through an hour of this.'_

A small part of him didn't mind the idea of being reminded of the doe eyed girl. It kept as quiet as a church mouse, however.

"Errol Flynn? Really?" Albert's mocking tone filled the air between them. Popping open the takeout box, chopsticks were quickly dipped in for the chow mein noodles that he'd ordered. "If you wanted to watch someone beat a cat in a burlap sack, we can go downtown." Someone obviously was not a fan of Mr. Flynn and his work.

Monica gave a roll of her eyes, remote in hand as she skipped the opening credits. "And who would you have us watch, Mister Wesker?"

"John Wayne, of course." He spoke as though it were common knowledge chiseled in stone or so part of who he was that she should have known. "I haven't watched 'True Grit' in about ten years."

"I liked 'The Quiet Man' better. No gunfights that last over ten minutes." Her own box of takeout opened; she plucked up a mouthful of rice with chopsticks.

"Oh yes, the fact that John's character beat a man to death with his fists is so much better." His eyes met hers, a chuckle escaping him. "Don't look at me like I've destroyed your ego."

"You're being a devil's advocate. Why do you have his movies if you dislike him so much?" Tugging at the fabric of her gray dress, Monica settled her back against the couch.

"I don't recall when and where I bought Flynn's pictures. I was probably drunk and thought it was a good idea in case I ever had company that wished to watch them."

"Yet you complain…" She replied before another mouthful of rice was devoured.

"I guess I didn't think that far ahead." Albert set aside the empty box of takeout in favor of another that contained egg rolls. "Seems to be my mantra."

That brought on her curiosity. "Who was your 'I didn't think that far ahead' woman?" Empty box and chop sticks were sat on the coffee table. Knees drawn to her chest, slender and pale arms wrapped about at the shins. Chin on the knees, she viewed Albert with a little grin.

A bite taken from the egg roll, Wesker's gaze fell to her. "Her name was Elizabeth Muller. She had bright red hair, I'm sure you already grasp that she had a temper from Hell itself." Her nod alerted him to as much anyway. "I tried to make it a relationship, but it was… all wrong. We weren't made for one another. I'm a Capricorn and she…" He paused, silver blue stare slipping to the ceiling as he seemed to attempt to recall. "…She was a bitch." Finishing off the eggroll, a smile adorned his lips at the laughter of the woman at his side. "Speaking of which, just to sound horribly cliché while I've been eating cheap Chinese food that is horrible for my heath, what are you?"

"Don't you mean: 'What's your sign'?" The wavy haired woman asked, picking up a forgotten glass of wine that rested on a coaster. "Taurus, though I don't feel as powerful as a bull."

Lying back, one leg propped while the other hung off the side of the couch, the blonde laid back against the two pillows that rested along the arm. "Taurus women don't normally have the bull factor to them, unless upset. They like to create Heaven where they go, usually found helping the poor and discarded of society. Believe deeply in a utopia to the point it's almost madness."

Monica raised a brow, mimicking his stance at the other end of the couch. Viewing him from the rim of her glass, she shook her head. Red painted toes curled over and over, the chill of the room a nuisance. "Trying to stroke my ego now? What about yours?"

A deep yawn and Albert peered away. "Capricorn? Well, it's this." He gestured around them. "Old world, old style in the things we have and the clothes we wear at times…Not easily impressed by things. Aloof for the most part, sometimes jaded, wistful, and dejected in our outlook."

"That sounds… not like a way to live. Everyone should be happy."

"That would be nice. Unfortunately someone has to keep their head below the clouds."

"Do you actually believe in that stuff? I mean, you can choose to be happy. It's your life." Empty wine glass set back on the table, she began inspecting her nails.

"I can choose to be happy?" He paused, another flourish of sarcasm on its way as he set aside the box of egg rolls. "Hold the phone, notify the papers…"

She gave a heavy roll of the eyes. Understanding his perspective was always a trial for her. "I'm being serious." Crawling into his lap, her hands wandered aimlessly over his chest before sliding downwards. Belt unbuckled, she smiled fondly at him. "People choose to be assholes every day. I would think the same could apply to being happy. Don't you think so?"

"I think you're drunk." A sly smirk that appeared on his features evaporated as the doorbell rang.

Front light switched on, Wesker opened the front door to his home. To the man's surprise, Rebecca Chambers stood on the steps. "Captain Wesker, I've been trying to call you for the past hour." Her red rimmed eyes and occasional sniff aired how upset she was.

"My phone is dead, Miss Chambers. You don't need to be crying over that." He replied in cold tones. As his stare drifted to the street, he could clearly see Edward Dewey waiting in the black Dodge truck. "What's the problem?" Silver hues back to the woman's face.

"Chief Irons has everyone available activated for tonight. An officer's body and the body of a woman were found out in the park." Rebecca swallowed hard, tears threatening to form. "Was Officer Slade and…Miss Valentine. I'm so sorry Captain." Wiping her nose with the back of her gloved hand, she was a sight. "Another officer was in a hit and run at a checkpoint for DUIs. Chief Irons is going nuts."

The entire time she informed him of everything happening at the RPD, Albert could feel his blood running cold as ice.

' _Goddammit.'_

A lump in his throat, he swallowed hard.

' _I never should have allowed her to leave. Just like that, snuffed out.'_

His expression remained blank as he fished the cell phone out of his back pocket. Miss Chambers was sobbing by the time she was done speaking. "Rebecca?" His deadpan question was rather soft in volume.

Ceasing with her whimpers, the woman looked up to him. "Yes, Captain?" Doing her best to make herself presentable again, Rebecca wiped at her eyes furiously.

"Get Edward and please come inside." He didn't wait for her reply of 'Yes, Captain' before the door was shut.

" _ **Maybe you should have."**_


	9. Chapter 9

_Patch over holes in my weakened heart,_

_Which angels hold and devils pull apart…_

_-Wicked Man's Rest_

* * *

_November 12, 1991_

_Four boys standing crowded by lockers in the hallway of a Denver high school were making quite a bit of noise in the midst of the hustle and bustle. Varsity jackets draped in red and blue dubbed them all as athletes. The scrawny boy in the middle of them alerted to the fact that they were bullies. Books knocked from his grasp, the dark haired kid cowered briefly before obeying the bark to 'Pick that up, you slob'. As he tried, he found himself shoved right into an open locker. Crammed in, trapped, he could hear the combination spinning shut and their jeering as the bell rang and his tormentors departed, high fives all around. Just another day for him in the hellhole he so desperately escaped every day in his fantasy books and Marvel comics._

_A few minutes pass and a gentle tap is heard by the boy on the metal of the locker. Peering through the holes, his stare met that of two doe eyed pools of blue._

' _Shhh…'_

_He nodded, relaxing inside the locker. The boy watched in amazement, seeing only the top of the girl's head as she pressed her ear against the metal painted in the school's colors. Click after click the combination lock spun beneath her long fingers, then finally the door was open and sunlight poured in. A hand offered to him, she helped him out of the locker._

_Stepping out, he dusted through his hair with a palm. "Thank you…" He couldn't even meet her stare as they both knelt and gathered up his books and papers. She rested her hand over his, giving a gentle squeeze before retracting her palm. There lay a ten dollar bill. "What's this?" He asked curiously, ivy green eyes peering over to her._

" _The lunch money they stole from you that I swiped."_

_He smiled. She smiled._

' _ **Robin Hood types…'**_

* * *

"Decapitated?" Long fingers slipped to press against Monica's lips as the two members of S.T.A.R.S. informed their statuesque leader of what had happened. She was left to fight off a panic attack, peering through a slit of light to view into the living room beyond the hall. The ajar door allowed her to watch, listen, and thankfully she was not in their view.

' _If Chris ever found out…'_

Rebecca wasn't in very good shape. Wesker's cellphone in her hands, she tried over and over to reach the RPD and Chief Irons.

Wesker spent most of the brief with a hand covering his face while Edward paced back and forth. "I'm in utter shock: One officer dead, a victim to a horrid crime is missing her head, and another officer in critical condition at the hospital." Hand dropping down to his side, the pads of his fingers gently drummed over the arm of the sofa. "Any leads?"

"Prime suspect behind the hit is a drug pusher, Captain. The guys who snitch for us already have seen his little thugs around the southern part of Raccoon City. They all have the same tattoo marking them as part of the group." Rebecca said softly, dialing the RPD once again.

' _Arvada…That stupid wretch has finally become a thorn in my side.'_

Edward just shook his head. "If we have cop killers on our hands, every man and woman in blue is going to be after these guys. I don't think they'll last a week."

"Agreed," Wesker chimed in after a moment of silence. Sighing deeply, he rose to his feet as Rebecca closed up his cellphone on her final attempt and offered it back over to him. "Keep me posted."

He wouldn't sleep that night. He knew it as he made his way into the bedroom and his walk in closet. He should have been prepared for something like this.

' _I was prepared for something like this…Just…unexpected.'_

He lied to himself. Burying it deep and throwing away the key. It's very hard to cage a feeling as fluid as water.

' _Stupid girl, you should have stood your ground instead of running. Bitched and moaned at me for insulting your choices until dawn.'_  He actually could feel remorse rearing its ugly head while he changed into his uniform. The image of Jill's doe shaped blue eyes staring lifelessly skyward somewhere, her head lacking a body, burned its depiction into his mind's eye like a hot iron. She'd been fine mere hours ago, and then some simpleton little shit came along butchering her like she was common cattle. What kind of dick would do such a thing?

' _ **A dead one…'**_

As Monica came back to the bedroom, the blonde was already swinging his vest over his shoulders.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Albert nodded slowly. "I'll be fine." His stare drifted towards the clock on the wall. "I don't think I'll be back tonight."

The wavy haired girl nodded, slipping her heels back on. "That's okay, I should get home anyway." Her voice was soft and pained. A gentle hug and kiss delivered to the unmoving man, she sighed. "I'm so sorry… She seemed like a nice girl. I had no idea you were friends."

To that, his brows popped. With his usual companion gone, he was left wondering just when the two would have even met.

Albert easily could have been breaking ten traffic laws, and not giving one fuck at all, as he sped across the quiet city. It was after eleven, traffic was hardly his concern. The more time passed, the angrier he was becoming. William wasn't picking up his phone, and the slim chance Jill had just gone home was shrinking away. Twelve calls, no answer at the house. A detective sent to the residence had phoned back that nobody had answered the door. Firm grip on the wheel, he took a sharp left.

* * *

" _That woman you were talking about…" Monica's curiosity was hard to quell._

" _What about her?" His voice was graveled from disuse, eyes so tired they closed every now and then. He felt cold where he sat on the couch._

" _Did you love her?" The question was curious. She was trying to think of something else. Anything was happier than now. Happier than thinking of the corpses now sleeping in body bags._

* * *

Yellow light but he hardly cared as he pushed the gas. The sound of an annoyed driver's horn was left in the dust as the car sped along. It was another ten minutes to the park where the bodies had been found and every available cop was scouring the woods for evidence.

* * *

" _With all of my heart, once upon a time, I did. After our son was born, she fell into a deep depression. I tried to convince her it was 'baby blues', but she wouldn't hear of it. Constantly going to doctors, thinking he was sick. She really just wanted attention. I know her father didn't help by treating her like she was just a reproductive system for the son he never had. She deserved better than that in a father. She took my son and I haven't seen her since. I will never understand abused women and the fathers that abused them."_

_A horrible chapter in his life that still haunted him even to the present day. Elizabeth's father had almost written his own death warrant the night that she had left Albert. He could still recall her screams with every slam of his fist against the face of her father._

_The aging man had shown up at their home with child protective services, claiming that both parents were unfit for raising the boy who was barely three months old. Nothing but lies, and a futile attempt to wreck their family that gained substance the moment he said the wrong thing._

_It was probably the first time Albert realized how little difference there was between humans and the rest of the animal kingdom. Something snapped inside of him, and all he could think of was the primal need to protect his offspring and removing the threat to his new family. Three knuckles had broken; Duncan's face a bloody mess. It had only been Elizabeth's strike against his face that had stopped the blonde man. She had chosen her sire over her mate, she and the boy gone with the mother who barely knew her and the father who probably was disfigured to this day. Albert… would never forgive her for that._

_The twelve hours he spent in a cell after were used to feed his hatred of Elizabeth, while he nursed a damaged hand. Something died in him that night. Something he thought he would never get back. Spencer had put that to use shortly after bailing him out. Duncan's price had been fifty thousand for silence and no charges pressed. Hopefully his wife had drank herself into a grave. A tiny bit of justice done in a world of wrongdoings. This was before S.T.A.R.S., when he changed from a happy father and a loving husband..._

" _What's his name?"_

* * *

He didn't even bother with a turn signal as he turned into an alleyway, gravel kicked up behind the midnight black car. Short cuts would cut his travel time. He had to get there.

* * *

_Drawn from the pool of memories, his silver blued stare shifted to her. "Who?"_

" _Your son." Her reply was shy and soft, her attention drawn to his hand that buttoned the shirt peeking under his open vest. Stopping him, she examined his fingers, pressing her own against them to size herself up. Hers were long and slender, so frail and pale in comparison to his. The highest digit of each of his was able to curl down over the top of hers. As she turned the palm downwards, the scars were visible to her eyes. Curious pads traced over each. A sliver of fear ran through the back of her mind. These were the marks of control lost._

* * *

He had to see her.

He had to see her dead with his own eyes.

* * *

" _Jacob." He swallowed hard and jerked the hand back, realizing how that word had become as sacred to him as the name of God himself had been long ago to the first followers—rarely spoken and never written._

" _Why Jacob?" She made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed._

" _Bible. Jacob was the son of Isaac, and grandson of Abraham. He was the father of Israel, and a bit of a trickster. Also the father of Joseph, who could interpret dreams and became a powerful man himself who took mercy on his brothers."_

" _I didn't realize you were so religious."_

" _I'm not all that religious." He had given up faith the night that Elizabeth had left. He had given up many things. Leave it at that, please._

" _Then why name him after a figure in the Bible?"_

_He gave a bit of a shrug, face solemn and calm as the man peered up at the shadows cast on the ceiling. Watch slipped over his wrist, he let his air out. "Maybe at the time I hoped that it would give him strength. A name is a powerful thing. It defines us as different than everyone else." Head tilting to view her, his pupils dialed wide. "Or maybe I just asked a nurse in passing what the most popular name was that evening." Her eyes rolling caused him to laugh. "Didn't like that answer?"_

" _No!" She laughed in return. "You're not like that. I imagine you spent a lot of time choosing a name for your first son. I think you wanted him to be a great man when you chose that name."_

" _And how are you so sure of that?" She wasn't wrong, but he was curious of her opinion on the matter. Vaguely anyway, his mind was still fixed on a phantom that would know no peace._

" **Because…I imagine that when you love something you take care of it and guard it well."**

_His smirk dropped. Her sweet smile dropped as he retreated from under her hands. She could feel her heart sink as he disappeared into the bedroom._

_They would never see one another again._

* * *

The ramifications were endless to this turn of events. Not only would Spencer see this as a botched job on his part, but now Dick Valentine was as good as dead. Nothing to live for, he was about to be a liability...

' _A liability you will be expected to get rid of.'_

With the elder thief dead, Wesker could kiss goodbye having more than just one ally in the city. He'd be losing two now, and losing was not something he liked doing at all.

' _Then there's her… You'll be licking that wound for years whether you want to admit it or not.'_

" _You're almost alive around her."_

He ground his teeth until they ached at the thought. At this point, ignoring Jill's ghost was all he could do to keep himself from putting a fist through the window of his car as he parked next to a squad car in the grass along the edge of the park. Door slammed harder than usual, he clicked his radio on. Forensic cameras flashing and the strobe of the cars were annoying enough for him to slip his sunglasses on. Marching towards the group crowded around Chief Irons, the blonde man found himself standing next to Barry Burton. Saint Michael Clock Tower chimed midnight as Wesker peered up towards its clock face.

"Evenin' Captain, I'm sorry for your loss." The burly man offered his slimmer counterpart a hand to shake.

' _My loss? Oh…'_

A nod and Wesker allotted the gesture. "Thank you, Barry." His stare fixed to Irons as the police chief droned on.

"…We currently have one in custody. Apparently this was a hit and not just a mugging gone wrong."

"Gee, you think so? I mean, don't criminals normally steal your head along with your watch?" Forest Speyer hardly sounded amused by Irons.

"Save it for hunting them down, Speyer." Marini bellowed back, eyes never leaving his notepad as he wrote.

Brian Irons cleared his throat, hands shoving back his trench before coming to rest on his hips. A stance of authority, a stance that caused many eye rolls in the RPD. "Right, well… We'll continue the search in the surrounding area of the park and into the woods. Graveyard has already been combed over, and we came up with nothing. I want answers, people. I'm not going to the mayor and the press with only the testimony of some coked up little shit. They killed one of our own. Let's find them." Pointing to Wesker, as the group dispersed the blonde captain approached.

"Chief?"

Voice low, the heavy set man sighed deeply as they walked. "I can't even wrap my head around all of this. She just slips off for the evening and gets herself killed?"

' _I'm sure he'd shit himself if he knew why she took off.'_

"She's been seeing Slade for about a month. I assumed she had gone to see him and saw no reason to keep her from going somewhere with a cop."

"Well now we do see the harm. Need you to identify the body before we send it off to the morgue." Trudging alongside Wesker, Irons just shook his head. "Not like you to miss the fine details."

To that, Albert had no answer as he took off his sunglasses. The body bag next to the 'paddy wagon' was unzipped for the blonde to see. Crouching down, penlight flicked on, the S.T.A.R.S. captain's brows raised high. "I can't identify her. No head, clothing is saturated with blood." Light clicked off, he stood tall once more.

"We'll have to do DNA testing then. Get her toothbrush, hair brush, or something." Combing through his mustache, the portly man began to stroll off. "I'm going to bed. You and Marini are in charge. Call me if anything surfaces."

"And just like that, we're not going home." Enrico uttered with a frown as he stopped next to Wesker. "Fat fucker probably is going home to play with his bath toys."

"You can waterproof a stuffed squirrel?" Both men smirked. "So, do we know where they'd been before here?"

"Was hoping you might know something, honestly. Sent Rebecca and Ed after you because we're coming up empty handed."

Albert shrugged. "I only know that Slade has a taste for tattooing." His gaze lifted as Speyer approached.

"He goes to the parlor across from J's. What's it called? 'Zombie Ink'?" Forest offered an evidence bag to Marini. "Crime lab nerds found this. Looks expensive."

Enrico let off a whistle before handing the bag off to the other captain. "Fancy bracelet."

"It's Italian." Wesker's brows rose briefly before his usual expression returned. "Not much of a clue, he could have easily given it to her. I'll go ask around the parlor and J's if anyone saw the pair."

"Think you've got an hour 'til the tattoo place closes." Forest replied, checking his watch. "J's is open until Joan is throwing beer bottles at someone."

"Right." Snatching the photos Marini offered, he was all too happy to get away from the park. Maintaining a casual persona was more taxing than usual. A self-evaluation was out of the question. Facing the monster in that closet was not going to help him now.

* * *

"I'm sorry; I haven't seen either of them tonight." The busty red head behind the counter uttered softly, a wisp of smoke rolling from her lips. Well endowed, a dragon bared its jaws along her throat. "Kevin is one of my favorite clients. Is he in trouble?"

"He's dead." The blunt reply from the S.T.A.R.S. captain was met with a look of utter shock.

"My God…" Chest heaving, a hand finding its way over her ruby lips, she contained herself. Fear, sorrow, anger, and a plethora of other emotions washed over her expression before she spoke again. "I'm sorry; I have a client waiting..." She excluded herself as a suspect with each tear streaking down her face and her full retreat behind the curtain.

' _Sadly she didn't exclude herself as someone who was fooling around with him…'_  Once outside, the chilling air met Albert's throat. Strolling across the street, a familiar wooden door was tugged open. Inside, the place was fairly barren; only the distant sound of a piano filled the air of the bar.

Stride at a slow gate, Wesker stopped short at the mahogany bar. Long digits sweeping over the top, his glasses were removed as the blonde man peered around. Few were seated at the bar, the usual drunks for an idle Tuesday morning. An unpleasant sensation wrapped him up tight, and the blonde narrowed his gaze in the dim light.

' _Place stinks of cheap cigars. Now I remember why I hate walking in here.'_

Joan, dressed far out league for just tending bar in a black evening gown, came around from the back behind the bar. Cigarette hanging from her fingers, she paused. "Oh shit, it's the fuzz."

"Evening, Miss Piper…" The radio at his hip crackling was met with a twisting of the dial until it shut off. His lips twitched with a faint grin. "Aren't you still on parole?"

"Oh no, I've been a very good girl." Empty beer bottles tossed into the trash, she sighed. "What can I get you, Captain?" Her dark eyes lifted to him as she cracked open two fresh long necks.

The far-away tones of a piano playing caressed the air in its soft tones. The haunting melody was serene, superbly played. "Oh, I don't know. I suppose your father still keeps Johnny Walker on hand. I'm off after my next question, not staying out all night." A gentle expression covered his features as he took a seat. "How are you, Joan?"

The beers set aside, she found a glass. Ice and liquor applied, she slid it to him on a napkin. "Doing fine, sir. Thank you for asking. I haven't seen you since Irons fired me from the force. I think most of the RPD shows up here just to piss him off." Leaning over the bar, her red painted lips bore a wide grin. "It's curious that you'd be here. You never come in."

Glossed photos offered over to the bartender, he leaned against the wooden bar itself. "These two."

"Oh boy, he's got photos. Yeah, Kevin and that girl were here earlier. He left pretty quickly."

"What about her?"

Joan's stare narrowed briefly, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "I don't remember her leaving with him. Took off for Bar Black Jack to entertain in Uptown about nine or so. Came back and only the three stooges you see were here. I'll ask Dad when he gets back if he saw anything different." Sliding the picture back towards the captain, she drove her stare back to the picture. "What happened?"

"She and Slade were found butchered in the park."

"Jesus Christ…" The former rookie cop just shook her head. "She's pretty. A shame about Slade though. Kevin and I went through the academy together. He wasn't a bad guy, a little bit of a horn dog…but she probably would have been better off chasing the only man I've seen drop someone with a snow globe." She bat her lashes towards him.

He hated when she did that.

She knew it did and continued anyway.

He smirked at the memory. Felt like a lifetime ago, a thug had a child in his grasp. Joan was just a rookie helping with policing the Christmas crowds and froze up. It'd only taken one solid smash against the back of the man's head for Wesker to drop him like a pile of rubble. She took the credit for the arrest. He had no use for more praise. Her loyalty was infinitely useful, though.

"You must be confused." He brushed her implication off like dust from a piano's keys.

"I always am." Pouring herself a glass, she gently tapped it against his. "Here's to you and here's to me, and I hope we never disagree, but if that should ever be, to hell with you and here's to me." She said it so fluidly and fast, he nearly didn't catch it. She downed the glass with ease.

"Cute, Joan. Cheers." A long sip taken from the glass, his lips briefly pursed. The liquor burned wonderfully for such a shit night.

A glass aside and she sighed heavily. "That is terrible news, Sir. So, what happens now?"

Finishing the drink, he stood and reached for his billfold. "Now, I go home."

"I recommend you take a long bath with lots of candles listening to 'Dust in the Wind'." She couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face.

He knew that his demeanor amused her, even when she was just a rookie cop with no real friends on the force; she found ways to loiter in the S.T.A.R.S. office and crack dry jokes with the captain. He wasn't 'her type' because he was 'too old' for her, but he was a kindred spirit.

' _Probably because of Rockfort… but that's ancient history.'_

"No, Joan… I go home and try to figure out just what I'm telling Irons tomorrow."

"If that's the case, the drink is on the house." Towing empty glasses away to clean, she offered a wave over her exposed shoulder.

He knew it had been all along.

* * *

"Jill…"

It was only when he'd walked back to check the mailbox did he notice the huddled form sitting on the sheltered stoop to his home. A blotch of black between two bushes loaded in white roses. Her doe eyes lifted to view him as he approached.

Mopping a palm over his face, he let his air out. "Jill… Where in God's name have you been?"

"On top of Dad, being ripped from my home, almost being kidnapped…" She bit her lower lip. "You…" Her voice cracked on that word. Whatever she had in mind pertaining to him was buried under her next sentence. "Kevin flipped out tonight, called me a bitch and left with another woman. I think he was drunk." Sniffing sharply, her gaze drifted to the yard across the street. "We'd been there for maybe thirty minutes." She admitted miserably as the blonde sat down next to her, mail in hand. "I came here and you were gone." The next sentence stung her mouth and that was easy to see. "I had nowhere else to go…" The smell of alcohol on her breath was hard to not notice.

He did the unthinkable in that moment. His arm wrapped tightly around Jill, drawing her to him. Whether to shut her up or his actions were genuine was hard to say. He was always hard to read. Detachment was easier than living in the moment. For once, he couldn't recall being happier to see someone.

She didn't resist, blue eyes widely peering up at him. As close as they were, she could smell nothing but his cologne.

Once his nose was buried against her hair, as he clutched her with his free hand like a child would his favorite blanket, the roses and vanilla of her shampoo filled the blonde's nostrils. He inhaled, and fought the tightness growing in his chest. "I thought I lost you."

She blinked, surprised by the notes in his voice. "What are you talking about?" She replied in an equally soft tone. Her arms crushed between them, Jill couldn't have wormed out of his grasp if she'd even bothered to.

"Slade is dead." Chin coming to rest atop her head, he stared out at the street lamp that illuminated the road. "Found his body and the body of an unidentified woman. It was assumed to be you…"

"How could it have been assumed to be me?"

He almost decided against telling her the reason, but driving home how dangerous these people were was far more beneficial to him at this point. Releasing her from his grasp, he began to sort through the mail. Junk mail was dropped on the step between their feet. "The reason even I thought it was you was due to the fact the body lacked a head." Phone fished out from his vest with all of the white envelopes nothing more than junk; the captain began to dial Marini.

Shock would have been an understatement to her expression. Picking at her nails, Jill waited quietly for his phone call to end.

He was the epitome of calm as he spoke to Enrico, not even a tone of relief found in his voice.

It sort of drove her nuts. His sudden calm was not normal in her world. Eyes drifting, her stare found the walkway leading up to the house welcoming as his words sank straight into the pit of her stomach.

' _My God...'_

He gazed at her briefly as her shoulder brushed against his, her little nervous habits rotating from nail picking to running her hands through her hair. Ending the call, Albert tucked the phone away. "Did anyone follow you?"

She shook her head.

"Good." On his feet, he offered her a hand. Her digits felt like ice in his grip. "Let's go."

"Huh?"

"There's an old diner that should be open. I'm sure you could use something to eat. Marini is meeting us there," He uttered softly while leading the way back to his car.

She fidgeted absently at the car. The sound of the doors unlocking rang in the air and she opened the passenger side door. "I'm sorry that I've caused all of this trouble…"

He sighed heavily, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "Oh? I thought you were pulling these antics to make my existence livelier." A weak smirk let her know all was forgiven.

Shy smile. Six years ago and a drumming pulse under his fingers.

As she disappeared inside, his expression fell flat.

' _You just forgave her for breaking your window, driving you crazy, and being a complete pain in the ass. Are you ill?'_

He tried to ignore it.

Turning the engine over and flicking on the lights, he caught her gaze and chased it with his own.

' _Is it possible you care about her?'_

For once, reality was forcing him to take a look at himself. He hated that.

' _You do realize you've dumped women for less, right?'_

Her pearly smile and doe eyes slipped their stare away from him with a small laugh.

"What?" He asked, an amused tone drifting through his voice as he threw the car into reverse.

"Nothing," She replied, picking at her nails once more. "I just…" Eyes meeting once more, she shrugged. "You're something else."

A soft snort and he switched gears before the car moved forward. The traffic stops already had switched from their usual rotation to flashing yellow. It had to be past two in the morning. "Thank you, Miss Valentine." A lingering gaze fell on the scars lining his knuckles. Knit brows, the iron mask he bore finally had met its match. Years of frost had made it brittle, and her warmth was the last straw. He looked peaceful and pale, but underneath he could barely inhale. The scent of her perfume had permeated the entire car. He couldn't pretend it was an annoyance anymore.

* * *

In the parking lot of the diner, the nervous habit returned, picking at her nails. She was surprised to find one of his palms coming to rest over her hands to quell the foible. Her eyes remained on that hand, memorizing the lines of veins stretching over the back. Jill wanted to tell him something. More thanks? No…She'd already thanked him. Forbidden words. More than badly she wanted to say those, they were burning her mouth.

The moment was gone as soon as the headlights of another vehicle illuminated the interior briefly, Marini's red diesel truck parking next to them.

His hand was off hers, and they were a million miles apart once more.


	10. Chapter 10

 

The cut had been clean, more than likely a machete's deed done to this young woman. Jane Doe was actually Alexis Christiansen, a senior botany major at the local college. The previous evening, which had meant the end of her existence as a vibrant and happy girl, concluded in her body being nothing more than dead meat on a medical examiner's slab. The bright pink dress that cut off just past her knees, which probably brought on more than a few whistles, now lay drenched in bloodstains and caked mud. Even in death, even without a head, it was easy to tell this girl took great care to groom. What nails remained on her hands were tipped in glacial white. Her tennis bracelet was expensive to say the least, even in an evidence bag it glittered in white gold. A hole dead center of her stomach was visible, the fabric there shred with meat and organs exposed. Albert's hand, cloaked in latex, came to rest over the lost girl's own.

' _Such a waste.'_

Officer Slade was a mess, to say the least, on the slab next to Alexis. A gruesome artist had turned him into a masterpiece of the macabre. A blast just below his ribcage stood out, the hole leaving not a bit of meat in its wake through his torso. A once handsome face had been bludgeoned to distortion. Signs of torture were apparent all over his body, to include his genital region. All of that tattooing to make him appear tough was as worthless as wearing a tarp in a nuclear waste dump.

"My guess would be that both died within seconds of the shotgun blast. Considering one wound through each and the evidence of sexual intercourse along with a clean hole through him and the mess of shrapnel buried in her…" The medical examiner, Tomas Borders, paused for a moment. His aged face swung up, wrinkled stare meeting Wesker's own through tired green eyes. "..He was on top when they were ambushed."

"I think I've seen enough." Albert's frosted words echoed through the chilly room. The examiner was quick to put both dead back in their new homes, locking them up in the coolers, as the blonde officer departed through the steel doors at the other end of the room. Latex gloves pitched in the appropriate bin, another pair of doors swung open as he stepped out of Hades and back into the RPD's fresh air.

His eyes widened at the sight of Irons and Spencer waiting for him in the lobby, which lay beyond yet another pair of doors across the hall he currently stood in.

' _Huh, Spencer is walking his fat dog early this morning.'_

Stepping through the doors, Albert was expecting the worst as Spencer gave a nod and Irons began to lead the way back to his office.

' _Joy…'_

* * *

"My streets are about to be a fucking warzone now." Irons growled from behind his desk and a glass of whiskey. Wesker had always known him to be a closet alcoholic, considering the minibar that the chief kept locked in the mahogany desk. A pudgy finger pointed at the tall blonde man, the balding man said something most regrettable. "Up until an hour ago, that girl lying in there wasn't the daughter of Fred Christensen. Now the mayor is up my ass that his biggest supporter has to bury his daughter. This is your fucking fault and I swear to God above I will have your badge for this!"

Edging towards visibly bristling, Albert's lips parted to give his beloved boss the tongue lashing of a lifetime. However, it was Spencer who was out the gates first.

"There is no need for that sort of tone, Brian. I can count on two hands the number of times you've screwed up beyond belief. Was it a mistake for me to keep you behind that desk?" Spencer's threat lay beneath the question and was as calm and cool as dawn in winter.

That put an end to Irons barking at the end of his chain, tail firmly tucked between his legs. Seething, he settled back into the leather bound chair. His eyes never left Wesker, who bore an emotionless expression. Irons could feel the blonde's smile behind those sunglasses. "What do you propose then? I can't have this in Raccoon City. Gang bangers killing cops and college students isn't exactly normal around here. It's on the front page of every damn paper. The press is in a feeding frenzy over all of this. I may be in your good graces, but the Mayor is not and he's already up my ass."

"You mentioned that…" Albert took a long sip from his coffee. "Five times now."

' _Good graces… More like on the payroll…'_

Spencer sighed deeply, aged hands resting firmly on the head of the cane he carried. "This has very little to do with the girl. Hurting her would hurt Dick, who is the main witness against Arvada. Killing her would have been enough for Dick to end his life. They can't get to him in solitary confinement. They're improvising poorly. My men are looking for the appropriate opportunity to get rid of Arvada for good." Picking up a couple crime scene photos from Irons' desk, Spencer gave them a once over before dropping them back down. "He's doing what little he can to try to hurt me after I burned his world to the ground and cast him out of the circle for stealing from me." Aged eyes set on Brian's face, Ozwell seemed to be looking into the man's eyes to see if he had a clue of the bigger picture. Apparently Spencer found none.

Wesker's stare narrowed, eyes shifting to Ozwell as the old man lit up a cigar. "Dick couldn't have possibly known of the issues between you and Arvada. As soon as he figured it out… well." The games within games… and he had to play very carefully at this point.

The aged Spencer nodded gently, smoke rolling from his lips. "I highly doubt he would have." Ash flicked to the floor, Ozwell didn't even seem to notice the look of disgust Irons had for the disrespect to his polished wood floors. "Now then, attacking an old friend of mine and my immediate response would make one wonder why I would shell out eighty thousand for the best lawyer this side of the Mississippi as his defense attorney. What could Dick know that I don't want exposed at all? What could I know about Arvada or Arvada knows of me?" The old man rose to his feet, ashing out the cigar right on Brian's desk. "I don't think I need to say any more than that. Other than if outsiders began to dig into Raccoon City itself, they'd find just who is funding S.T.A.R.S. and how many payrolls you're really on, Brian."

"That doesn't answer what I am supposed to do…" Irons' face was bright red at this point, hands balled into fists. Embarrassment was one thing Brian Irons could not handle under any conditions, and he had egg all over his face now. A shame Spencer wasn't willing to wipe it off for him.

Ozwell turned, peering at Albert. Still, he addressed Brian's question. Irritation raised swiftly in the tones that escaped the mouth of the aristocrat. "Oh… I would suggest letting your men and women hunt down the thugs. Kill them or bring them to me if you don't have the stomach to take out the trash, Brian. Captain Wesker will handle the rest in court. He knows what he needs to do…" A hand clapped on Albert's shoulder and Spencer departed. He paused at the door. "Bring Arvada's bastard to me, though. Alive."

Both men remaining sat in silence for a moment. It was Irons who spoke first. "I hope you have a good plan for this. I'm not going down because of you."

' _A good plan? If you only knew how all of this was going to play out in the end. Perhaps William wasn't so wrong for suggesting you be the fall man. Incompetent enough…'_

To that remark, Albert's pearled smile appeared and he rose to his feet. Eyes set on Irons behind his shades, he just chuckled a bit. "Don't worry, Brian… I'm not rolling you under the bus with me. You'll have my badge before this drama is through."

Once Wesker had departed, Irons was left only with his thoughts. Examining one of the photos on his desk, something seemed to settle in the mind of the police chief. Stroking his mustache, deep brown eyes narrowed in stare as he dropped the photo and reached out to the old rotary phone sitting on his desk.

* * *

"What are you going to do, Albert?" Annette's question slipped past her lips hovering behind a steaming cup of coffee. Ice hued eyes fixed on the face of the blonde man who seemed to be staring at absolutely nothing, a smile curled over the lip of the cup as his stare met hers.

"About what?" Feigning ignorance as always, Albert shifted in the uncomfortable patio chair. It gave a rusted squeak with his movement. "You need new chairs." Subject switched, evasive. Unlit cigarette between his fingers, he shifted his attention to its white paper.

Eyes rolling, she sat the cup on its saucer. "About…the trial." A long pause and she continued. "Also about the reason a girl with brown hair hasn't been sobbing for days on end even though the man who was in her life is now draped beneath an American flag and laid to rest." As his attention returned to her, she smirked. "First couple days I didn't think anything of it… Then William told me that she was spending quite a bit of time with a new 'study partner'." Ash flicked into the metal tray on the round table, she chuckled a bit.

"I'm only keeping her safe. William told me I had nothing to worry about and apparently I do. She is free to come back here. I have no interest in her other than what she can do for us."

"For now. How long until she's pregnant?"

"Ouch, Annette. I maintain my innocence."

"Bullshit, you're infatuated" Another sip taken from the cup of coffee, her blue eyes shifted to Sherry playing in the yard. Two tiny kittens in tow, the pigtailed girl was as happy as ever. Stare softening for a moment, she looked back to Albert.

Wesker let his air out in a deep sigh, finally lighting the cigarette with a lighter he retrieved from the table. "You've been fairly mean to me lately, Annette." He viewed her shrug as she lounged back, and chuckled. "That worried she would disappear from our grasp so you took her in? Battle of the sexes doesn't seem to be your 'thing'."

The blonde woman smiled wide. "I thought it was inappropriate considering that you and William are convinced we need her to the point you've got Spencer persuaded she's more useful alive than in a shallow grave. I don't know what you said to make that happen, but I'm impressed. William, because of her skills and you because she has a pretty face." His feigning wounded received a middle finger reply. "Especially if the old man is going to be locked up for good, we'll need her… Not like we have an army at our disposal like Spencer. She has turned out to be a good friend, though. Cleans up after herself, does laundry, watches Sherry…" A long pause on her end before Annette spoke again.

Albert's turn to give a shrug, smoke rolling from his nostrils. "I'm a man of needs; I thought you two would be gone longer."

Icy hues rolled. "You're such a pig sometimes." Her stare flicked to his face. "Terrible liar too."

"I have no interest. Why don't you believe me?" He absolutely loved infuriating her. Annette was something of a human lie detector when it came to him.

Deadpan, she let off a snort in disbelief. "You really think I'm going to buy that? You fool every man on the planet with your chilly and detached demeanor but you don't fool women. Probably why you try to keep all of them at an arm's length."

"No, I keep all of you at an arm's length because you have cooties." Ashing out the cigarette, a plume escaped his lips. Already he was lighting up another one. The meeting at the RPD was not helping his mood. "Plus, I don't trust anything that bleeds for a week and doesn't die."

"You're such an ass." Annoyance in her smoky voice, Annette leaned back in her chair.

He smiled.

Fingers coming to rest against the side of her face as her head canted, Annette could only shake her head. "You smile a lot more now…" Cigarette between her lips, she took a few long drags.

"Fine, Annette. Let's say you're right…"

"I know I'm right." Smoke escaped her lips as she spoke.

"Let's say that 'Practical Al' gives a shit about the little thief. It doesn't fit into the plan, so she's cannon fodder like the rest." Arms folding over his vest, the blonde man finally found a comfortable position on the old chair.

"We could still proceed as long as you keep lying. Problem solved. Most I foresee her needing to be prepared for is shooting someone. Spencer's thugs are not going to go down easily."

Ash tapped into the tray, Albert nodded in agreement. "She'll get plenty of experience taking lives in S.T.A.R.S. if the city continues on this downward spiral."

Annette let off a snicker. "Right, and the idea of nailing her on your desk just never crossed your mind."

He bristled lightly at her accusation, even if it was completely true. "How dare you accuse me of such unrefined behavior on government property." Her laugh was met with a sigh. "It will be much easier for us with four making the snatch instead of just Wong and myself. Testing facility will have everything we need to grab on hand before making the trip east for the sale." His aqua stare met hers. "Where is Umbrella on that?"

She shrugged, finishing off her cup of coffee. "Three or four years away if we're lucky. They're building it under the old warehouse district that was recently condemned."

"By then, we'll have everything…" Putting out the cigarette, Albert's gaze settled on the sun slowly retreating behind the tree line.

Annette's stare dipped low before she rose to her feet with cup and saucer in tow. "Whatever makes you happy, Albert. I won't be heartbroken if you suddenly decided to split your share with her instead of peppering her with lead. I'm not great at making new friends." She offered a smile and then stepped indoors.

* * *

A month had passed since his little heart to heart with Annette. For once in his life, he felt like he could actually breathe again.

Jill came and went now, between her studies and looking after little Sherry, it was rare the two saw one another. He'd called her out of the blue. An offer of dinner had other motives behind it. Not that he'd ever admit that he missed her. He missed nobody.  _Ever._

After dinner, she was on the couch. Bare feet on the coffee table were nudged off by his hand. Pools of blue met as the captain sat on the edge of the table before her.

"Trial begins tomorrow. Arvada will be put away for good… May even get lethal injection if he is tried for first degree on all counts. Not sure when we will have to go up there to testify."

Jill didn't have much to say in return for a few minutes, knee deep in another one of her horrid beauty magazines. "What are you going to tell them?" Cornflower hues lifted at long last to meet his.

Lips pursing into a thin line, Wesker let his air out in a sigh. "I… have no idea." Frosted gray eyes meeting hers in stare, he smiled. May have been the first time Jill had ever witnessed his actual smile. It was all wrong in all the right ways, little more on the left than the right yet wide and exposed pearled teeth beneath. "Been distracted by a few things." Fingers slipping to his hip, he relieved himself of the Samurai Edge and its holster. "There's this woman…"

"A woman? Seems to always be a woman with you." Jill grinned, flipping through a few pages. As he tried to snatch magazine from her, she rolled off the couch. "I'm reading, don't be rude."

"I may have a problem with this one." He followed her at a relaxed pace, relieving himself of further annoyances such as gloves, vest, web belt and glasses.

Valentine nodded, flipping through more pages. Why she always needed them was beyond his spectrum of understanding at times. "Maybe you should arrest her."

"She hasn't done anything wrong… yet." Pulling his watch off, Albert dropped it on the desk. "She's the kind of trouble that has me out at two in the morning."

Either she didn't hear him or was just looking to say something off the wall. "Maybe you should handcuff her to the bed. Something kinky may get her to behave." Ice blue eyes lifting, her brows popped high as she peered at his wide eyed expression. "What?"

A hand covering his face, Albert let off a sigh. "Were you even listening to me?" Her unconvincing 'yes' led to him snatching up the magazine. Turning it over to plain view, his face could not have been more priceless. Eyes wide and face red, words were hard to form for a moment. Regaining composure and clearing his throat, he offered the magazine back to her. "In the future, could you please listen to me instead of reading about the '50 things that will drive a man wild in bed'? I'm not handcuffing you to a bed."

"Sorry, was only half listening to you. Didn't realize you were talking about me."

He offered the magazine again, deadpan expression scribbled all over his features. "Please give me more than a fraction of your attention in the future."

"I'll think about it." Snatching back the magazine, she returned to the couch.


	11. Chapter 11

 

Closing the door behind her, Jill stepped into the darkened bedroom with muted footsteps on plush ivory carpet. As the brunette turned around the corner that led into the master bedroom itself, she came to a stop. Lingering in the shadows with long fingers resting along the corner, she watched Albert in silence.

Moonlight spilled its fingers between open shades as the blonde drug his last boot off from his seat on the bed. Giving it a toss into the open doors of the walk-in closet, he let out a sigh. Toes giving a curl and then stretch, surgeon's fingers found the back of his t-shirt and tugged upwards. Tanned flesh exposed, the white shirt was balled up and pitched in the laundry hamper. Light and shadow wove over his form, joining at the slopes of his shoulders while light retreated soon after towards the blades of each. Toned muscle dipped at the spine and wrapped about his form. He appeared as the story she knew from childhood of a statue that came to life at a mere prayer by its crafter—perfect. A well-oiled machine capable of much death and destruction if it felt both were needed. Side profile of his face exposed as one silvery blue iris peered over his shoulder and found her. "What are you doing back there?" His usual tone had abandoned him, curiosity having overthrown it.

A nervous laugh left the young woman before she spoke. "I just… thought I should say 'good night'."

He knew that. Turned to view her, one hand came to rest at the center of the bed in support. Her gaze switching to a wall only caused a smirk to slip over his lips. Still a nervous fawn in a lion's den, her innocent nature was making it very difficult to ignore growing desire. In the dim light, her pale blue eyes seemed almost illuminated. "Jill?"

"Yes?" Almost on cue, she stepped closer, nervous finger pads worried over the joints of the digits on her hands. Her stare was still on the Vitruvian Man.

Tactical thought brushed aside, he caught her gaze after a moment of silence. "Stay with me."

Lips parting into a smile, she laughed a bit. "I thought I was." Pointing towards the hall that led out of the room, she peered back to him with a shrug. "Am I not welcome on the couch?" More locks of brunette were gently brushed back behind her ear.

Finally rising from the bed, a hand lifted to rake through slicked blonde strands as Albert approached her. The shadows of the tree outside stretched their fingers over her pale face as he stood mere inches from her and she shifted to view him in what little light was spilling in. His hands found hers, breaking them apart from her nervous habit. Her question caused a devious little chuckle to escape him, pearl white teeth flashed from between his lips. She couldn't be that naïve, though the pools of blue were doing their best to fool him.

He loved being fooled by her, regardless. "No, you're not." A reply from her was unwarranted and unwanted as Albert's mouth met hers. The gentle affection shifted, his lips pressing desperate and heated kisses against hers in a slow and methodical fashion. "I want you here…"

' _I want all of you here. I want to spend the rest of eternity in here with you.'_  His mouth fused to her after, tongue begged for entry and tasting her in the process. A pleased little purr escaped him as her arms snaked to the nape of his neck and her lips parted to allow him further delving.

Lids hooding cornflower hues, she sank into the kiss. His cologne wafted into her nostrils, overpowering Jill's sense of smell. The fragrance of him was everywhere, and soon she felt warm fingers following in suit beneath her shirt at the hips.

Desperation and lust laced as tightly as a corset through his deliberate motions. Tugging the shirt over her head in one swift motion, he gave the article of clothing a twist and captured the brunette's arms above her head. A chuckle escaping him, he teased her lips with gentle kisses here and there with the occasional draw back to drink in the sight of her scantily clad form. She squirmed and laughed, trying to hide herself with little avail. The lilac bra was far from the gaudy lingerie many women used to seduce him in the past.

Fake breasts, tucks, peels, tattooing, piercings… They all once appealed to him. They had all been broken women with broken dreams, and they felt as long as they controlled the sex that they were in power. Sex was their way of putting a Band-Aid over wounds that required stitching. He didn't need a degree in psychology to know that they were not good candidates for anything other than a relationship based on orgasms.

Now, he was left staring at Jill in a bra more than likely pulled off a rack at the same store she bought clothing for church and could not have been more enticed. Several very light freckles dotted over her shoulders, collarbone, and further down, only stopping short of where cleavage vanished beneath light purple cloth. Other than that, her skin was flawless all the way down to the beginning of her hips curving from the jeans she wore "Beautiful…"

Her stare pitched up to meet him, cheeks flushed heavy in crimson. "I…" As he released her wrists in favor of his hands on her hips, Jill slipped her own hands to his chest. She'd wanted to touch him.

Everywhere.

"You're soft…" She muttered absently. Curious fingers slid over the rise and fall of his pectorals, skittering upward to his face. A shiver ran through Albert as her nails grazed his skin. A bit of stubble lining his jawline, she drug a nail against the hair. "You need to shave…"

While his thumbs drug hypnotic circular motion over her hips, his chin found its way to hollow of her neck. A quick little twitch of his chin against skin and she was a flurry of high pitched giggles and pleas for him to stop. White smile perked towards her as he drew back, he mimed her pout.

A perturbed expression filling her face, the cropped haired brunette slid a hand between them. Long and slender fingers brushing over the crotch of his cargo pants, she grinned wickedly at his bristling.

Brows previously jolted high by her unexpected advancing; the blonde let his air out in a sigh. "I just didn't think we'd-..!" Cut off by her hand slipping in and slowly beginning to stroke him, Wesker's lips curled into the cruelest of grins.

"You talk too much." Her lips finally fused to his, hunger exposed in full swing as her tongue massaged against his. Top button of his cargo pants undone, both of her hands found their way in and began working him over.

He began to relieve her of her jeans, though his tugging only made the zipper misalign and end up stuck. Albert's unexpected yell of 'Fuck!' didn't seem to help much, though Jill giggled up a storm. 'It's not funny' didn't help either; she just grinned and offered him condolence kisses on his failure to remove them. Knife produced from his cargo pants, one quick cut ruined the jeans. Impressed, the woman snaked out of the jeans as quickly as she could manage. Heel caught in one of the legs of denim, the brunette nearly fell over. Luckily, someone was right there to catch her with a strong hand.

"Easy there, don't kill yourself over this." Knife tossed on the nightstand, he did well to take in her lower body.

"This is coming from the man that just destroyed my favorite jeans with a knife to get me out of them." She winced as he gave her lilac colored panties a snap. "Ow…" Nails of one hand dragging over his pectoral, Jill dug them in briefly. "You'll pay for that."

"How do you plan to do that, Ms. Valentine?" He purred, nose nestling against the hollow of her throat before he tested his teeth against the skin. Her soft groan caused his length to twitch beneath the hand resuming its task of working him over.

Fingers sliding down to trace against the muscles adorning his stomach, blue irises met his steel gray in a yearning stare. Tilting forward, nearly on her tiptoes, her mouth met his in an unyielding kiss. The space between them wavered between inches and centimeters with each moment that passed.

Hands lost in her locks, his mouth returned the gesture with equal vigor and desire. A pair of lotus eaters, they drank the ambrosia of their own doom.

Fingers sweeping down on her rump, the man quickly guided Jill to the bed, giving her a playful shove onto it. Cargo pants and boxers dumped on the floor, he soon was on all fours before her, his lips grazing along the inside of her calf. Tongue flicked over the soft skin behind her knee, the surprised gasp she let out only made him grin.

"Don't…" She said in a prickled tone.

Nibbling along the inside of her thigh, his steel colored eyes peered up at her. "Do you want me to stop, Jill?" A gentle kiss or two over the skin followed the question, eyes never leaving her face. She looked so conflicted…

"No…"Jill whispered, her fingers stretched out to tousle his blonde strands. Deciding if she liked his hair a mess or not would have to wait. As he tugged the garment down with his teeth, she began to lift up. "Wait, I…" Nervous tone.

A gentle hand coming to rest on her stomach, Albert peered up at her. "Relax… I need to take care of you first, beautiful."

He dared to taste her, watching her writhe and moan shamelessly before him. Fingers lost in his gold leaf hair, her tight grasp only excited him further.

It didn't take long. With pale white nails threatening to shred sheets and back arched, he was certain the new neighbors next door knew his name now.

Recovering after, Jill didn't put up a fight as his mouth met hers. She could taste herself on his tongue. It didn't matter, her mind was already swimming.

"You're loud…"

"You're complaining?" Heavy lids finally relented and she viewed him as Wesker propped himself up.

"No. I just may be deaf in the future from your enjoying  _that_." Smiling at her, he slid a hand between her legs. "I want you, Jill."

"I think you made that very clear…" She said with a sigh, turning over towards him. Only watching as his fingers gently brushed the one exposed strap of her bra down, Jill smiled faintly. "I don't want this to be the last time."

He paused, considering her statement for a moment. A hand on her hip, the blonde's nose nestled against hers. "It won't be." Lips grazing against hers, he undid the clasp of her bra with a deft hand and rolled over atop of her. "I promise."

_Careful the promises you make, Albert._

Mouths meshed in a passionate kiss, the fingers of both parties were interlocked as their hands were pressed against the mattress. Tongues dancing to the sounds of bated breathing and restless feral tones were the only sounds. Bodies fused aside from the ravaging strokes delivered, there seemed no end in sight to this. Exhaustion was a foreign word, the two driven by something that sat within the depths of every human on the planet since the dawn of the species.

Jill's soft hands glided down the slickened back of her love, her thoughts swam between disbelief in the moment and how much he filled her. Mewling softly, her brows knit tightly. His brief pause and gentle affections spoke wordlessly of the man's desire that she be just as content as he. Fingers dragging to the nape of his neck, her head lifted to utter one word softly in his ear. "Harder."

With that said, their mouths fused once more. Rocking his hips against her, Albert exhaled sharply. He had plenty to learn in the matters of how to please her.

* * *

The buzz of an alarm caused lids to fly back and reveal steel blue eyes. The pillow next to him was unoccupied…

' _Shit.'_

The door to his bedroom swung open, Albert tugged a well-worn shirt over his head and wandered down the hallway shadowed from the morning light.

Stealing the girl in the night out of his bed seemed unlikely. He was such a light sleeper, he was certain that any intruder would have been snatched in the dark with their throat squeezed shut between his fingers. So that only left…

' _It was all a dream…'_

Relief washed over his shoulders upon approach. He found her on the sofa, exactly where she'd fallen asleep the night before. TV was already droning the morning news. She'd left it on all night, apparently. Magazine resting across her chest with an arm hanging off the edge of the couch, Miss Valentine softly snored under the charcoal colored blanket. Jeans were dumped on the coffee table along with the wrappers of some sweets and a half drank can of soda. The mess, her snoring... He couldn't filter any of it out. She was such a fucking mess. So was he, dreaming about...

' _I am losing my mind…'_

A groan and he departed. Eyes wide, head shaking, the blonde wandered back towards his room. "I need a cold shower."


	12. Chapter 12

 

"Don't give me that look. That's the same look you gave me when it was requested that I cease researching with you in favor of other avenues of work." A swig taken from his cup of coffee, Albert kept his stare fixed to William's face. He pondered the possibility of an egg frying on it considering how red Will's features appeared.

"You screwed up five months of research back then. Now you're about to risk much more than that. This was all too risky. Do you think you really screwed up that badly you need to go with the UBCS to South America?" William's voice was soft and subtle as the calm before the storm.

"I haven't screwed up anything, Will. The plan will still go as expected. Also, Lisa didn't die so I don't know how I ended up the scapegoat for that disaster." Another time, with an experiment that had gone wrong conducted on a young woman of the Trevor family. Her parents had died from months of exposure to various forms of viral agents, and Albert had nearly granted her the sweet release of death as well. That had been the last straw for the pair of scientists. A subject that went unspoken for so long.

"They can handle it. They don't need you." The words were sour, laced in anger as the scruffy and scrawny scientist picked up his mug of coffee, fingers careful of the heated surface of the mug as he took a sip. "I don't know why I bother to say anything." Gray eyes lifting miserably, the surrounding café they agreed to meet at didn't offer much in terms of things to gaze at. Ugly orange seating and tan plastic tables, place probably retained its original appearance from when it opened at the time Will was filling diapers down to the pine oil smell that lingered constantly. He hated meeting here, but it was private. "Do you hate me that much you'd pull this?"

"That is absurd. I don't hate you, William." Another sugar packet's contents dumped into his mug, the blonde dropped a spoon in and gave the coffee a stir. Silence and the clank of a spoon against a mug filled the air for a moment. His words almost made Will give a jump. "I just want to make sure he's dead and stays dead. Aside from that, Arvada had his own lab. There may be something we want from it."

The scrawny scientist could barely believe what he was hearing. Hands folded in front of him, William shook his head. "That's merely rumor."

"We need Arvada gone to make the sale happen before Spencer gets his claws in 'G'. Plus, there's always the Veronica virus that is in a corpse somewhere on Rockfort. I wouldn't mind seeing if that avenue is fruitful. Aside from that, should Spencer ever catch wind of us…?"

"Why do you have to bring up the virus from the bitch?"

"If he should catch wind of us we're done. Getting rid of Arvada for good earns us more time and keeps Valentine silent. Jose made a statement by having that girl killed. He's not going to stop until she and her father are dead.

Hands cradling to his face, William gave a deep sigh. Defeat. Birkin's shoulders gave a visible sag as he leaned back in his chair. Poor William, nearly driven mad by all of this.

Lounging in his seat, Albert scooped up his mug of coffee. "Do I seem so foolish to you now?"

"Somewhat less than before we had this talk. However, little worried about you wearing those inside again." Gesture towards the sunglasses, William tried his best to smile and laugh all of this off but it wasn't working well. They were walking a knife's edge.

Albert's face smeared without expression aired that he felt much the same.

* * *

Once outside, the pair conversed quietly on other matters. They'd been this way for as long as either could really remember: shoulder to shoulder and scheming.

William wasn't finished with all of this just yet. "I still can't get over this feeling that something will go wrong." What William didn't say was what he wanted to honestly say.

A sly smirk fixed to the blonde man's lips. "Your money and family will be secure, William."

Birkin's expression remained sour. "What are you planning to do with the girl?"

Brows popping up, Wesker slipped a cigarette between his lips. "Make her useful."

* * *

She knew nothing of fighting for anything other than her life. Under his guidance, she was no longer a victim of violence…she was handing it out in a 'buy one get one free' fashion, with the heel of her palm followed by a haymaker.

He taught her everything he was comfortable with her knowing. He taught her how to be as shapeless as water, taking form only when needed. He taught her to steel herself and retaliate with a vengeance only a black mamba could boast. "Feel the moment, and only then strike." She was a good student, despite a learning curve as steep as Everest. His clay to mold, his words the slick that held his creation together in spite of exhaustion…right up until his shin caught her square in the gut.

' _Still not fast enough to block that...'_

Wind knocked out of her, Jill let a groan escape her as she took the hand offered by her attacker. Wretched from the blue mat, palms came to rest atop her head once she was back on her own two feet. Gray shirt soaked in sweat, the woman let a cough break free. "I need a break." She muttered breathlessly, striding to her gym bag at the other end. Dropping on her rear back on the mat with water bottle in hand, Jill wasted no time sucking down the warming water in the bottle.

"Already? I thought the academy was a 'cake walk'. Unarmed combat is the best tool in an officer's arsenal." Albert's voice echoed in the empty gym as he stood over her. Saturday morning, nobody else around to watch the captain correct every flaw of his newest recruit's training.

The training itself at the academy had been difficult, so many laws and procedures hammered into her brain every day. Being pepper sprayed was probably the worst part, though all of that was over.  _'Thank God, I wanted to kick my instructor in the nuts for that.'_  She absently thought with a grin, finishing off the water bottle's contents. "I may have fibbed about that."

After retrieving a towel from atop her bag, the blonde mopped away sweat that was starting to pour. "You don't say?" Towel rolled up for a head rest, the blonde allowed himself to lie back as well. Eyes shutting, he let off a sigh. "How's the house hunt going?"

"Horrible. Raccoon City's ghettos are becoming more and more likely to be where I'm going to end up living." Jill's voice echoed in miserable tones as she rolled to look at him. "On the bright side I'll have a good reason to listen to Elvis Presley's 'In the Ghetto' on my way home from work every day."

A chuckle left the blonde, finding her little warped sense of humor amusing. "You're not going to live in the ghetto. I'll see what I can find now that I'm not on night shift. Marini is back from vacation." As the cropped haired brunette abandoned the mat to gather her bag and the water bottle, Albert sat up. "I'd been looking at an apartment in Uptown. It might still be available."

"You were thinking of moving out of your house?" Shouldering the bag, Arctic met the Atlantic in stare.

"I'm not fond of having such a large yard… There was a town house I was looking at as well."

"I guess that could work." Around the block to the parking lot, she finally broke the silence. "I think I found a car, though."

"Oh?" Disinterest was heavy on the tongue as Wesker unlocked the doors to his pitch black car. "What kind is it?"

Jill could only smile and shrug as she waited for the click of her own door's lock.

* * *

The car lot they were standing in resided in the older part of Raccoon City. Less than twenty cars stood in the lot, and somehow Miss Valentine had found a Volkswagen beetle she couldn't live without. The car was in terrible shape right down to desperately needing a new paintjob. It was only after one good look at the car that Albert understood why Annette and William had insisted on Jill telling them when to be there.

"I don't know which is funnier: the car or the look on his face." Annette could barely keep her voice low enough as she leaned in towards her husband.

"I'd say it's pretty even. It's almost like dinner and a show." William could barely hold in a snicker, turn away to keep his longtime friend from seeing his grin.

"If she bothers to stick around after all is said and done, we could watch this show every week." A plume of white escaped Mrs. Birkin's lips.

William nodded. "It needs a catchy name, though."

"How about 'Jackass and Jill'?"

Even with his back to them, and ten feet away, Albert could hear the pair giggling. "I'm so glad you two find this amusing." Annoyance filled his voice and scribbled itself all over his features as he turned and stepped back to where the Birkins stood. "You knew about this?"

Annette nodded, smiling sweetly. "We told her it'd be best if you tagged along this time, since she was seriously considering buying it."

"We wanted to be here to show our support of her first big purchase as an adult…" Thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose, William barely made it through the sentence before he was laughing.

"Bullshit, you two just came for the display." Grumbling, Albert folded his arms and sighed. The laughter from the pair wasn't helping his mood. "What do you think?" He asked as Jill approached from speaking to the salesman.  _'Please say it's a piece of shit, dear heart…'_

"He said four-thousand and it's mine." Hands clasping behind her back, she turned to view the car. An expression of joy all over her freckled features could not be brought down.

"Does it even run?" The question should have been a joke, but the blonde was dead serious. The sound of a snort sent a glare towards the pair of scientists.

"He said there might be something wrong with the alternator." Lips pressing into a thin line, Jill shifted her stare up to his face. "But, I love it."

"Needs more than love to run, Jill…"

William and Annette finally had to retreat to the Shaggin' wagon before they were reduced to tears.

"I can buy another alternator… They're not that expensive." She protested; worry knitting itself to her brow.

Sunglasses finally slipped off, Albert sighed deeply. Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he swore a headache was going to set in at any moment. "A car like that shouldn't be on a lot. Usually beaters like this would be used for spare parts only. A wise decision as well, considering you don't know how far that rust really goes…"

"He said it's only on the surface."

"It's probably not. Don't you know what oxidization does to the frame and body of a car?"

"Do you?" Hands on her hips, the brunette woman narrowed her stare on him.

"Yes, I do actually. It ruins the car in short. Rust is dangerous as well to the human body. Cut yourself and we're in the hospital before you succumb to lockjaw."

"That's a myth. The bacteria come from feces and dust, not rust. I could prick my finger on a sewing needle and possibly get lockjaw."

Arms folding over his chest, Albert knew he wasn't going to win this battle. Though it seemed a bit strange that Jill would have intimate knowledge of the bacteria strain  _Clostridium tetani_ which was responsible for lockjaw _._ "Who told you that?"

"Annette. Why?" Brows raised, Jill could only look on in confusion as Wesker threw the dirtiest look towards the station wagon and Annette's head ducked out of sight.

' _I swear….'_

"Do you really want this car?" Sunglasses slipped back onto their perch, air escaped him in another sigh as she nodded. Keeping her happy was going to be the only way to keep himself happy. Plus, she needed wheels of her own. "Fine, but you're not paying four-thousand dollars for this thing. Probably will end up dumping that much into it to make it a decent automobile." Trudging off to speak to the salesman, it was only then he realized how out of the norm this was for him. Usually a woman in his company wanted a Mercedes, not a throwback that reminded one of the hippie era. Yet, here she was.

' _Most fascinating thing you've ever seen.'_

He ignored the thought.

Within an hour, the car's price had been reduced to two thousand and Jill had the keys in hand. A sad look shrouded her features at his very sharp  _ **'No'**_  in response to her request for him to ride with her home.

"What a party pooper." Annette said with an over-the-top huff as she climbed into the Beetle on the passenger side.

* * *

"You've been in a mood all day…" Stabbing her fork into a piece of chicken, Jill peered at her dead silent dining companion. The only sound that had hung in the air for the past twenty minutes had been silverware on dishes and the chime of the grandfather clock from the den. His behavior was starting to drive her nuts.

"Thinking." His passive reply didn't quell her stare drilling into him. Quite aware of it, his steel gray eyes met her blues in gaze. "It's nothing."

"Dad always said a little bit of nothing is usually a whole 'lotta something."

"You start work tomorrow." It was strange how informal he'd become when they were alone. Stranger still…she was never finding the deadbolt engaged when she wandered over out of boredom. The butchering in the park had put an end to that.

"So?" She didn't understand what that had to do with anything, taking a sip from her glass of iced tea.

"Your resume had to be embellished to allow for your joining." Taking a bite of chicken, his stare shifted to the nearby windows. "I'm just wondering if Irons is going to buy it."

One dark brow lofting higher than the other, Jill set her silverware down. "What do you mean by 'embellished'?"

Halfhearted shrug, he finished off the remaining poultry on his plate before responding. "May have had to add that you were in Delta Force for a spell. Everyone in S.T.A.R.S., aside from Rebecca Chamber who is sporting an IQ that is off the charts, has some sort of military experience." The look on her face was enough to cause a smirk to form on his lips. "What?"

"There are no women in Delta Force, Albert. That's no well-kept secret by any means."

"That's not what your military records say, dear heart. Brian Irons is also an idiot that never served a day in his life in the military. He doesn't know the difference." Cloth napkin set on his plate, he leaned back in his chair.

"…Do I even want to know why?" Fingers laced about her glass, Jill peered over the rim at him.

"Well, to be frank, I had to make you appear on par with the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. so that it wouldn't draw attention. I've had several veterans and members of S.W.A.T. that are looking for calmer work in this area and the only way to turn them all down is to have made you look like the best choice for the job."

Eyes wide, glass set down, she cleared her throat. "So, it's going to be apparent very quickly that I have no idea what I'm actually doing unless it comes to locks. What am I supposed to do about that?"

"Most recruits into S.T.A.R.S. are very lost for the first six months. After you finish a bit of training for rappelling and first aid you won't appear any different than anyone else. The only thing every member shares in common is training at the Academy and a few basic courses. Other than that, everyone in S.T.A.R.S. has a unique set of skills and it's why we function so well as a team."

"I know a couple of them are pilots… but I'm basically, in reality, just a burglar with a badge."

A chuckle escaping him, Albert rose to his feet. Both plates picked up, he slipped away into the kitchen. "You're not just a burglar with a badge. If I felt you really were that, I wouldn't have selected you for this role. I would have sent you down to the Umbrella plant to hunt for a job. It's not just my promise to your father that has you at my side." Dishes washed and racked, he peered up as she offered the two glasses over. "You put in the time and effort to get your education finished for this. You have a good head on your shoulders when you're not being stubborn. The things your father taught you give you a unique perspective for cases. What more could I want in a recruit?" Rinsing and racking the glasses with the plates, he began to clean off the silverware.

"It's an awful risk…"

"It's not as bad as you're making it out to be, Jill. Your uniforms arrived this morning. May want to go inspect them before you have to wear one tomorrow." Subject swapped, he dodged the matter for now and hopefully with Irons being so ignorant he wouldn't have to revisit. He still felt himself far craftier than any of the other players in this game and would conduct himself accordingly. Now, he had his ace embedded into his own team.

* * *

The next day at the RPD, Jill was at least twenty minutes early. Dressed in her gray uniform, the beret bearing the S.T.A.R.S. crest sat on the desk before her. Most of the other members were busily working or talking amongst themselves. She recognized Chris and Forest, both greeting the newbie as they walked in. A brief chat with Redfield alerted to troubled waters in his relationship with Monica.

"She was seeing someone on the side. We're trying to work through it."

Forest's wide eyed expression and mouthing of the words 'He's so dumb' caused Jill to choke back a laugh.

Chris caught on from catching Jill's line of sight, face going sour as Forest gave him an award winning smile. "Anyway, has anyone seen the Captain?"

The door swung open to the S.T.A.R.S. office and Wesker set his gaze upon Jill immediately from behind his pair of sunglasses. "Valentine, you're late for your briefing with Chief Irons. Why didn't you report to the front desk?"

"I.. I.. I thought-"

"Try doing less of that until you have some rank or we're dealing with hostages, hmm?" As she rose and strode out, he shook his head, shutting the door. A burst of laughter from the other members could clearly be heard.

"I had no idea..." She whispered in a worried tone once they were alone.

"Relax; it's all part of the game. Chief Irons actually demanded this; nobody else has had to deal with this treatment. Come on, this way." The captain strode ahead of her, taking the stairs.

Following in suit, her mind was spinning at how quickly he had gone from frosty back to the man she was so fond of.  _'Paging Dr. Jekyll…'_

"Oh, and please just nod a lot and say 'yes' at the appropriate times. The less he knows of you, the better. Soon, you'll just blend into S.T.A.R.S. and he'll forget why he even had a hissy fit. If he so much as makes a sexual statement towards you, do not throw a fist. I'll have his badge and his fat ass on the street before you lose your job over such nonsense." The blonde said in a blunt and icy tone. Whatever Irons had said prior to Wesker's visit to the S.T.A.R.S. office to retrieve her, Albert was now out for blood any chance he got. The door to Chief Irons' office opening, the two entered with haste.

"So, she did keep her head after all!" Irons said in a gruff and condescending tone. "Heh! I'll be sure to have you answer all the calls when someone locks their keys in their car."

' _Oh, he has such a way with words…'_  Albert sighed inwardly, monotony smearing over his features.

Jill, on the other hand…

' _Fucking DICK!'_

Jill could easily see why Wesker told her not to throw a fist. She already wanted to relieve herself of a boot and put a size seven mark in the middle of his forehead. Plastering on a bright smile, she nodded to the man. "Uh, yeah I did and it's what I do! It's a pleasure to finally see you Chief Irons."

"Oh please, call me Brian. Now, we've had to do a little background check on you Miss Valentine and everything has come back clean aside from a speeding ticket when you were sixteen." Seating himself, Irons folded his hands. "I would hate for this to be seen as you were just that good to not get caught. I would hope it is a sign that you were not following in your father's footsteps."

"I held a job working for a locksmith for a long time, Chief Irons. It should be in my employment record. My father's trade only helped me be able to keep a job and pay bills."

"Heh, in one way or another."

"I'm not a dishonest woman, Chief Irons." Heat was rising on Jill's cheeks, her palms balled into fists.

"We'll see abou-"

"Was there something of importance with this 'meeting', sir? Badgering my new recruit is a waste of my time. I have work to do and so does she." Wesker's defense of the woman slid in as neatly as a partner cutting in for a verbal dance with Irons.

"Fine. I'll be watching you, Valentine. Wesker, if she shows to be as worthless to society as her father has, I will have your job too." The pudgy man said with a fat finger pointed to both of them.

"Noted." The captain turned and headed out, Jill right on his heels.

Once outside of the office, the brunette woman gave a huff. "What an-"

"Don't even waste your breath on him. Come on, let's put some distance between you and his office before you march back in there to tell the man how you really feel about him." Nearly resting a hand upon the woman's back, he stopped himself short, fingers curled as the appendage was drawn away. Both realized it, both smiled faintly before heading back to their office. "This will be interesting…" He commented in a deserted hallway as they walked.

"What will?"

"Seeing how well you adjust."

"Gee, thanks."

His lips twitched into a smirk a bit at that, then his expression dropped flat of emotion as another officer came into view.

* * *

Once back to the office, Wesker swung the door open. "Alright, listen up. This is Jill Valentine, our newest recruit. I expect her to be given the same respect that each of you give to each-… Actually, forget I said that."

The team laughed a bit, all of them focused on their captain now.

"We'll give her a few weeks before we start the hazing, Captain." Forest chimed in, a few cheers following it.

"You'll be sharing a desk with Kevin; he's on Bravo team and handles the night flights normally. Rarely will see him." A finger jetting in the direction of the empty desk, Wesker left her side for his office in the back. Disappearing inside, the door shut behind him.

Making her way to the desk, Jill sighed a bit. The rest of the day was a bit of a drag, mostly studying a case that was being handled by the detectives on the other side of the RPD but was tracking well on its way to S.T.A.R.S.'s lap. Same behaviors: Breaking and entering, rape, theft after murder. Glancing over a few of the glossed photos, it was Forest who brought Jill back to reality. "I'm sorry?" She said, glancing up.

A sly grin on the man's face, Forest Speyer sat on the edge of Jill's desk. "Chris said your Pops was a burglar. You any good with a lock?" The question was accompanied by the presentation of a simple combination lock.

Sighing, she opened a palm and caught it as he tossed it to her. Giving it a spin, it took the woman less than twenty seconds to find the combination, unlock it and present it back to Forest. "If you want to keep a thief from stealing, put more numbers on the combination before locking it. Also, switch out your lock after you begin to notice that you can make the dial wiggle inside of the lock. "

Speechless, the man returned to the desk that he and Chris shared. About that time, the door in the back swung open. "You two, its three 'o clock. Get the bathroom cleaned up after you do an inventory on the firearms room." Wesker said, tossing Forest the keys as soon as the long haired man rose and turned to face the captain.

Once the two men left the room, Brad Vickers stepped out as well to submit some report for the FAA for flight hours. Barry had taken the day off as did Joseph, which left them shorthanded aside from Forest working some overtime to carry the dead weight. Wesker didn't really care, so long as those who were taking time off were near a phone and able to return a phone call if something came up.

"What do you think of the case?" A familiar voice asked Jill as she had returned to reading. Peering up, she stared at her own reflection in a pair of sunglasses.

"I think it's going to happen again, Captain Wesker. Looking at these crime photos, I don't see any reason that it won't."

"Hm... Hopefully the detectives will find them, otherwise we get to set a trap and handle the case in our own way." Lifting one of the pictures up, his glasses came off. "All victims are brunette, all in their twenties, and killed in the same fashion from a bullet to the head -executioner style."

"Whoever is doing this is paying someone for keys to these rooms, too." Jill said softly, offering one of the pictures to Wesker.

"Really? How do you know that?"

"Not a single tool mark on any of the locks and a partial thumb print was lifted off of the lock. I don't usually open doors with keys not using my thumb, Captain." She said with a quirked brow.

"Hmm, well I will mention that theory to them when I see them again. By the way, you're on your own in two weeks. I'll be gone and Alpha is switching to graveyard shift."

A deep sigh escaped from Jill's lips, one palm lifting to rest against her head. "Why?"

"Standard procedure. Bravo and Alpha switch off nights and days. It isn't so bad, Irons isn't around and most of the team spends the evening playing sports or working out in the gym when not working a case or having to answer calls with the blue uniforms in the middle of the night. Brad has to do his night flights to stay current; so you can look forward to riding around in the back of the helicopter with him."

"Why are you going to be gone, Captain?"

"Vacation." Without another word, he stepped back into his office and closed the door. Perfect timing, as the rest of the team was filing back in for the shift change.

Eyebrows popped, Jill let off a deep sigh. "Welcome to S.T.A.R.S., Miss Valentine." Her impression of the captain was lacking, but enough to cause her to snicker at her own silliness.


	13. Chapter 13

 

It had been close to midnight when Brad had dropped her off at the coordinates, the landing zone not much more than a grassy patch unoccupied by trees. The Arklay Mountains were their proving grounds. Every member of S.T.A.R.S. had to know these mountains, and know them well. This was where they were needed most. All the way to the landing zone, she had idly listened to Vickers explain how they'd all endured this one week of training.

"Hell week."

"Fitting name." Jill could feel herself becoming green around the gills, stomach not appreciating the pilot putting the helicopter into auto-rotation without even so much as a warning. The sudden absence of the engine's roar and lights all over the front dash lighting up or flashing did more than catch her attention. Despite being strapped in, her fear could not have been greater.  _'SHHHHHIIIITTTTTT!'_

At the last one hundred feet, Brad finally spoke. "Gonna be a mild flare." Collective pulled, they landed without hazard mere seconds later.

Door slid open; Jill pitched the headset and grabbed her pack. "Brad?" She called back once outside the aircraft.

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever do that again…"

The brunette man gave a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, but I had to do an auto-rotate after that engine was replaced. You should hang around the hangar more, might learn something other than pushing papers. Could really use another set of eyes on my pre-flights."

Door slid shut; she adjusted the pack over her shoulders and stepped about the aircraft to the pilot's side door. "Might be smart to do that out at the airfield instead of on the clock, you know. I don't know a thing about helicopters and you probably don't want to relive Hell Week with me." A pause and she stepped away from his open door. "You're clear on the APU for start."

A smile breaking out on his face, Brad nodded. "See you in a week, rookie." Salute tossed to her, he began procedures to take off. He was gone within five minutes, the formation lights and drone of the rotors soon faint in the distance.

' _Great…'_

Land navigation was the first task, her military style compass fished out from its pocket along the strap of her pack. Flashlight and map followed soon after, her cornflower blue eyes fixed on the terrain on the map, then she peered around. "Well, I'm at the right place." Flashlight clicked off, she gazed at the glowing green needle of her compass. "North…four clicks." She uttered softly, trudging in the direction she was destined to follow. The stars only helped her further along; Albert's little methods of navigation he'd shared were paying off.

' _He's taught me so much…'_  She thought fondly, stepping over a rotten log. Night in the mountains was beautiful, no lights and only billions of stars overhead to be seen. She'd never count them all. The air was sweet with pine, shadows dancing in rhythm with wind and moonlight. Stopping at a narrow trail, she checked her map once more. Getting lost would not be good.

' _Four clicks north, then head east along the river until it forks… A stone that doesn't belong there is where you'll find the next coordinates.'_

' _So theatrical, you'd think I was on a quest for the Holy Grail.'_ She sighed inwardly, passing through the narrow trail. The sounds of the night were all around her: bugs, birds, and the occasional howl of a coyote. The mountains were primal still, despite man's attempt to tame them. She could see it in every tree she passed, every owl spotted on the branch. High above, a swarm of bats forked through the trees like expert pilots weaving through the treetops. The little critters were her favorite, always eating the bugs that loved biting or just being a pest in general.

Her thoughts began to wander around 2:45 AM, nearly at the river where she'd need to make her turn.  _'Really haven't had time to process everything… It's all happening so fast. Have to give testimony soon, and I don't know how I can help Dad at all. That attorney has my story water tight, but telling them how Dick was a great father and how terrified I was during my capture doesn't do much for him…'_  She second guessed herself all the way to the riverbank.

Other thoughts swam through her psyche, wondering on the future always being a pastime she found solace in. There was S.T.A.R.S., though she didn't know how long that'd last if things went south for her.

' _Then there's him...'_ She was grateful for the only male companion she spent any length of time with these days, even if he did keep her at an arm's length. There was something different now in the way he looked at her. Occasionally his shoulder would brush against her in the hallway. Graveyard shift, he said nothing and quietly cleaned his weapon while she snoozed on the couch crammed in his office.

' _That last night we sparred…'_

She was getting better, much better, at facing off against him. Jill would take to her grave that it'd had been an accident, a stray right hook catching the man right in the mouth. The rest was a blur, resulting in her on her back and him atop her. Pinned, she could only cower beneath him at the sight of red drooling down both corners of his mouth. A beautiful sight. A savage's harvest poured from that bruised mouth, begging her to dare a taste.

She remembered how heavy his breath was, and the intense stare in his eyes. Any other man, she would have taken the dial of those steel irises as desire. He could have had her in that moment. She would have let him take anything and everything from her. Any other man would have.

Not him, he wanted for nothing.

She was nothing to him. That was made perfectly clear to her. She was the daughter of a friend, and he would do what was necessary to keep her safe.

Nothing more than that.

She was nothing more than that.

Yet, a sly smirk was the only reply she received as he wandered away towards the men's shower, the expression disappearing behind a towel pressed to his mouth. He spoke nothing of the incident, even when she tried to apologize.

' _He's a rubix cube. I never will understand him.'_

Stopping in her tracks, the sound of a low growl caught her attention and drove out whatever insecurity had begun infecting her mind. Beretta clicked from her holster, she crouched with it in hand. There were predators out here…

' _That'd be my luck.'_

Slowly rising to her feet, her gaze flicked all around her in search of the source. Nothing, and the sound had stopped. Jill hadn't realized she was holding her breath, and suddenly gasped. Shaking her head, hair gently tucked behind her ears, she continued on her way east. She swore she heard something following her the entire way. Paranoia, perhaps.

* * *

Daybreak, she'd reached the fork. The land next to the river had proven unforgiving, her feet sore and body tired. Peering around, she finally saw the stone. Limestone slab, in it was carved out the next point she'd need to reach. Stepping closer to it, a message was scratched in next to it. "Fear has its use but cowardice has none." Looking to the right, she frowned at the knife stabbed into the rock. Pulling it out, she recognized it almost immediately. Black, gold emblem of S.T.A.R.S. etched on its side. Several notches jetted from the back of the blade giving it a wicked appearance.

' _Wesker…'_  He must have one deadly thrust with a knife if he could get steel jabbed into rock. The thought sent a chill down her spine, the memory of his blood creeping down the corners of his lips curling around her brain. Blade kept in tow with her handgun; she slowly circled around the rock. Part of her training would be a surprise attack. Train as you fight, was the motto. Nothing to be found, though. Paranoia was mounting once more in her mind as she stepped away. Finding cover, she pulled out her map and began to locate the coordinates for the next point. Soon enough, she was on her way once again.

As the brunette woman continued on her way, she'd completely missed Albert standing not even ten feet away. Camouflaged in fatigues, face paint, and a ball cap; he really thought he wouldn't have been hard to miss. Yet, she still lacked the insight of a regular soldier. Fine details missed her eyes.

' _Maybe it's time to fix that…'_

He'd wait until she felt safe again, when paranoia and instinct had once again returned to slumber. That would be when he'd strike, and hopefully she would put up a decent fight. There was no mercy from the lunatics that ended up in the mountains and the learning curve was steep. This would make or break her for S.T.A.R.S…. He expected her to do well, regardless. She'd proven herself a capable fighter… Once upon a time he knew that he was just as careless. Then HUNK got ahold of him. Albert had never been the same after those three months on Rockfort Island.

Forty minutes had passed; it was time to follow her. She was making good time, despite being visibly exhausted. He suddenly stopped, frozen in place.

' _Oh. Shit…'_

Apparently she wasn't the only thing that had missed him, a lone mountain lion making its way along the trail the woman had taken. He was young, beautifully colored, and big for his species—possibly an inexperienced hunter looking for food. The animal was likely looking for easy prey. Blue tongue had wiped out most of the usual deer that made up the creature's diet, no doubt. It had been an issue for years in the mountains, and precisely how Spencer was able to bring scientists to this remote area. A perfect cover for creating freaks. The feline was soon on a dead run and gone from sight before Wesker even had a chance to draw his weapon and put it down.

' _This is why I hate cats.'_ The blonde bolted after as well, cursing silently to himself as he removed his own hand gun from its holster.

At the river, Jill had stopped to rest. Allotting herself an hour before continuing, she thought it wouldn't hurt to soak her feet. Pack, cargo belt, boots and socks left at a nearby tree, she wouldn't go far. Cargo pants rolled up just below her knees, the icy cold water felt wonderful on her sore calves and feet as she stepped into the rushing waters. The sun was peeking between the trees of the late afternoon, and the world around her felt at peace for the moment. Far above, an eagle rode thermals, lazily tracing the river in its hunt for food.  _'I wonder if Heaven even has a shot being this beautiful…'_ A deep growl suddenly caused her gaze to shoot to the right, and there it was. "Oh fuck…" She whispered, facing what she had no doubt had been what made the sound the night before. Her blood ran cold in her veins.

The cougar was already crouched along the bank with paws on the sand bar, less than thirty feet away from her. Its large eyes were fixed on her like someone had just rung the dinner bell. Large, well built, it was the last thing anyone wanted to see with the sun already beginning to show signs of dipping behind the trees.

A hand instinctively went to her hip, no gun to be found, only the knife that was put on loan.  _'Fuck again!'_  Drawing the blade, she had no choice but to use it. Too far from her pack, she would never reach her gun. Eyes clicking back to the creature, she inhaled deeply. Heart thumping harshly against her ribcage, she slowly began to move back, feet splashing water in the river's current.

The creature was apparently not in the mood for games as it sprung forward at blinding speed into the cold waters. She'd moved too far back for a leap to be effective. The gap between them reduced to zero, paws and claws shoving her back.

Knocked right into the water, the cold was a shock to her system if the knock to the back of her head already hadn't put her in a daze. As she sent under the current, it was a struggle to get her head back out for oxygen.

' _GonnadiegonnadiegonnadieGONNADIE!'_

Effectively pinning her in the water, he couldn't get to her throat as an arm was in the way and he was more than happy to slam his jaws around that. The taste of copper drenched his tongue, and the unexpected happened—she fought back.

Knife brought up with an expert's palm, she jammed the blade right into the creature's eye socket. A distinct pop hit the air and warm liquid drenched her hand. She yanked back on the edge, ready to go for the skull next. Running on pure instinct, every fiber of her being was screaming for her muscles to deliver their worst.

If anything, she'd just pissed it off. Horrid pain and now blind in one eye, the creature was quick to lose interest in this less than friendly meal. Giving her arm a shake, he nearly pulled it out of socket as he tore back. His teeth tore ribbons upon retraction, the appendage bleeding freely. A terrifying hiss on his part, ears pinned back and he backed off as soon as this little creature swiped at him again, roaring curses. Lucky to dodge, he was out of the river, retreated and gone in a matter of seconds. There was easier prey, and he would be scarred for life by this one…

Adrenaline wearing off, Jill's chest hefted deep and fast breath. Letting out a pained and terrified scream, the sound drowned the area. Wildlife ceased their usual music for a time, bristling at the newcomer to their kingdom making such a ruckus. Jill could feel panic wafting over her. She tried to scream again, tried to cry, only able to blubber out pitiful wails as she clamped her hand over the wounds on her arm. The wounds on her chest went unnoticed, the bruising under skin as well. Back of her skull was pounding; the riverbed hadn't exactly been a feather pillow. Never before had she felt so much pain. Fleeing to her pack, drenched from head to toe, she had to get the bleeding to stop. Tourniquet, bandages, and a morphine shot… Rebecca was a good teacher. She'd managed to get the tourniquet on before the sobbing began.

' _I almost died up here… and for what? A wade in the river? Stupid, stupid, stupid!'_ The words wailed in her head, banging on every part of her skull as she tended to her wound. A shaky breath, tears ran down her face as she tried to dab up the blood. The thought of needing stitches didn't even cross her mind as she bandaged up the arm. Blood had darkened two spots just below her collarbone where claws had sank into her flesh. She was a wreck…

' _An impressive wreck…'_

Watching silently, Albert stared on from his vantage point in the tree line that ran parallel with the river. His gaze followed her as she moved.

' _Could help her. She is bleeding...'_

It was still a training exercise…and he wasn't alone. Head tipping, he peered over his shoulder as someone approached. Redfield, of course, with a rifle designated for sniping in tow.

"Is she…?"

"She maimed it, and I don't think it's coming back for more." Noticing the brunette man standing shoulder to shoulder with him, Wesker frowned just a touch as his gaze returned to the woman. "Have Forest bring Rebecca out here. We'll let her keep going for now."

Chris' expression was a mixture of concern and surprise at the call. "Shouldn't we airlift her out? Those wounds are going to need stitching, don't you think? She might attract something else."

A sigh filled the air between them, Wesker sounded almost annoyed. "We'll catch up with her when she makes camp to check on her. If Rebecca thinks she should be taken back to the city, we'll get medevac out here." His blue eyes shifted to Chris, a harsh tone in them. "I do know what I'm doing, Chris."

"Yes, sir." Chris didn't sound convinced.

Albert flicked his stare back towards Jill, a grin doing its best to hide though to little avail. She fought off a wild animal with nothing but a knife and was ready to put it down. She was going to make it… Already she was packed and trudging towards her next destination. The invisible wounds on the inside of his mouth, those she'd left on him, stung from an absent tongue running over his lower lip. The sensation almost made him want to laugh.

' _Good girl…'_

* * *

Twilight and she'd reached the bare rock trail that led up to where she could make camp. Forest had told her every member of S.T.A.R.S. had carved their names up there and it would be her turn as well. Silver lining, in this very shitty experience for Jill Valentine. The bugs had been biting all day, sun unforgiving and exhaustion playing its roll. She'd already drank all of her water, lost almost an hour of time fishing out her compass from the river leaving her pack soaked from that, and heat exhaustion imminent but the sun dying down had helped cool her off. Oh, and 170 pounds of cat had tried to eat her because she'd decided to go play in the fucking river! So many screw ups…

'… _And this is just the first day. Fucking great…'_

Setting up camp had been dropping her pack and the outer belt holding canteens, hand gun, and medic kit. Boots torn off, she frowned at her sopping wet socks. Wringing them out the best she could, she laid them out to dry nearby. With no idea how long it'd take for that to happen, she began fishing in her pack for something to fill her stomach. Simple rations had been all she was allowed to take along. Nothing sweet to draw ants, nothing that required cooking. The best she'd come up with was a meatloaf ration. The last thing Jill Valentine ever liked touching was meatloaf. She was so starved she ate it anyway, hardly having time to taste it. Garbage tossed into one of the pockets of her pack, she knew to leave nothing behind but footprints.

Despite her pain, she didn't want to just sit around. Exploring the small flat area of rock, the brunette soon found the carvings Speyer had been talking about. It was more than names and dates… they'd left some personal notes here. His was the funniest out of all of them. 'Don't beam me up yet Scottie, I'm taking a shi-…' with the 'I' carved going skyward. Must have taken him forever to scrape all the way up the rock's face. "What a dork." She chuckled, reading over the others. Redfield's had been the most sentimental, a message to his parents wishing they could see the mountains.

' _I wonder if they're dead…'_  Her fingers traced across his name, blue eyes drifting over the others. She had heard him talking about his sister…but never parents. Tugging the knife she'd been left from its sheathing, she circled the rock for an appropriate place to carve her own words.

' _Forest said nobody ever comes up here… this is just for us.'_  She thought, fingers tracing over the blank stone. Her arm throbbed horribly, already red peeking through the bandaging. She wasn't the world's greatest medic, and new bandages and another shot would be needed soon. Changing the dressings was important, prevented blood poisoning.

' _I'm so tired, but what if I don't wake up?'_

"Jill." A voice cut through the air like a knife.

Her gaze widened and she dropped immediately. A million emotions tried to wage war for dominance of expression as tears burned their way through ducts and then down her face. "I was attacked." She choked out.

Albert retrieved the medical kit she'd been carrying with her equipment and sighed heavily as he approached, dropping to a knee next to her. So much blood all over her uniform, it was a miracle she hadn't attracted something else. She looked terrified, on the verge of a break down. No more words could escape her trembling lips as she stared up at him with those blue wells.

He made up his mind that Redfield had been right. It was time to go home. Even Wesker knew when he'd been beat by Mother Nature. She'd taught him countless lessons in the lab and countless more in the mountains. "Jesus, Jill… What am I going to do with you?" He uttered softly, hands lifting her arm to inspect the shoddy bandaging. Worry knit all over his face as he began to lift back what used to be white gauze. The wounds were worse than he'd thought. The radio on his hip crackled with the sound of Chris' voice. Clean gauze pressed over the wounds on her arm, he held tight while pulling the radio up. His thumb affectionately brushed over repeatedly, a wink ushered towards the brunette woman as her cheeks flushed. She was calming. A good sign. "Chris, get Rebecca up here. Now." His voice was calm, but something in way he said it had Miss Chambers at Jill's side in less than three minutes.

"You've been following me?" She asked almost dumbly. The morphine was doing its job nicely while Rebecca worked stitching the wounds. Chris and Forest were nearby, peering over the messages carved in limestone of the campsite.

"We always do during this, Jill." Rebecca replied, carefully stitching the wound shut. "You're lucky. Usually we hang back a little more, but the Captain said he spotted a mountain lion."

"She's more than lucky, she's bad ass. Sent that kitty cat fleeing for the hills! We'll know it's him if we ever see him again. Only mountain lion sporting an eye patch." Forest chimed in. "Thing has to be heavier than the chick Brad is banging. Cap'n, how much do these things weigh? 200 pounds? Cap'n?"

Wesker had his back to everyone, peering out over the darkened mountains. Once again, seeming deep in thought, he actually had his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Nestled neatly in one of the passes within viewing distance, Spencer's estate was dark tonight.  _'Probably a problem with the power… Lab always eats up all of it. Working in those conditions…'_

"Captain Wesker!"

Head jerking, he peered over his shoulder to Rebecca Chambers. "Yes?"

"All done, she's going to feel great for a while. I don't think staying out here is a good idea at all."

"No shit, Sherlock. She had Hell Week in one day. I say she passes. Navigated up here and nearly dropped a mountain lion." Forest grinned, lighting up a cigarette. The captain's brows narrowing briefly seemed to go unnoticed towards him.

"I agree." Chris uttered softly. "I don't think anyone else had to deal with more than being sore from rappelling down the side of the mountain about ten miles east."

Sighing inwardly, Wesker returned his stare towards the mountains. "What do you think, Miss Valentine? Should I pass you and send you home tonight to a warm bed? Or will you keep going and put everyone to shame?" He turned to face her fully, moonlight draped over his shoulders. No sunglasses, face still smeared with camo paint, his blue eyes stared her down.

She stared up at him for the longest time, dirty, tired and wounded. "I… I'll go home…"

A small sigh of relief and he smirked just a touch towards her.

"…After I finish this."

His face fell flat and he was not quick enough to recover before curious and confused expressions riddled the other members of the group as they looked at him. Nodding, Wesker ran a hand through his blonde hair before slipping the ball cap back on. "Sounds good, I wouldn't expect any less from a woman who served in DELTA." At least his lie on paper was now going to be sealed as reality for these people.

"Holy shit, Delta? That's awesome! No wonder you never got tied up with your old man's work." Chris offered with a grin, punching Forest on the shoulder. "Let's get her some fresh supplies from the truck before we head down to the forest station. C'mon, 'Becca."

"Grab my pack out of the truck for her, its dry and there is little chance of her getting it soaked with the river behind her now." Wesker uttered with a slightly annoyed tone as the pair disappeared from sight. Rebecca finally making her way back down after them gave him the opportunity to speak. Jill was examining the fresh bandaging. "You do not have to do this." His words were swift and quiet.

"Yes, I do…" Jill sat back against her pack, wincing visibly. "You've written up this amazing life that I never had and now I have to live up to it or risk being exposed. If I'm kicked to the curb as a fraud, Arvada's goons will find me. We both know that."

"None of these people are going to think less of you if you come home." He offered, kneeling in front of her.

"They would if they knew the truth."

"They're never going to know the truth." He reached out for her hand, examining it between long fingers. Her knuckles were scabbed in dark red.  _'We'll be long gone before anyone figures out anything.'_

"I'm staying." She said firmly, drawing her hand back.

"Are you sure?"

"Go home, sir. I'm sure you would rather be packing for vacation instead of watching me hobble around trying to prove myself."

His stare narrowed on her. "I'm looking out for your best interests."

She slowly began putting things back into the medic's bag. "Look, I appreciate that you've watched out for me because you were friends with Dad… I've gotta start pulling my own weight though, otherwise all of this is going to fall through…"

"You risk completely maiming yourself." He replied, keeping his voice low. Some tones were beyond his control for quiet.

Jill just shook her head a bit. Boot slipped on one after the other, she awkwardly began to lace them. The throbbing pain was making it difficult. On her feet, she moved past him. "Go home. I need to psyche myself up for this rappel."

"You are in no shape for this, Jill. Come home with me, I…"

' _Home with you? What did you just say?!'_

They both fell into the silence, gaze even.

He had nothing more to say, the hand that had come to rest on her shoulder dropped away. Those last few words just couldn't find their way free to breath. They withered and died right in his mouth, somewhere between the wounds of where his teeth had buried into the soft tissue from their last spar.

' _She's going to make Irons eat crow after smearing every stupid thought in his fat head he had of her being worthless, and you having the idea you needed her on your team. She's doing you a solid favor, isn't she?'_

Whatever answer he had for that was brushed off as the trio returned with Wesker's pack. He could only watch in silence as she slid the pack on with Chris' help. Somewhere inside, the part of him that was wanton did its best to burrow free. It didn't care; it just wanted what it wanted. He didn't give two shits if Brian Irons' fat face screwed up so badly it was stuck that way forever upon hearing that Miss Valentine had gone above and beyond her training. He would make her shine as bright as the sun another way. The reason for why…he was still wrestling with daily.

' _It would be worth taking a picture of him if she did manage to complete this. William would cackle himself into a seizure daily looking at it…'_

Rebecca brought him back to reality. "Captain Wesker?"

"Yes, Miss Chambers?" His blue eyes focused on the young woman as she approached with the keys.

She smiled up at him. "I said we've all agreed we're going with her for the rest of the course. I'm not… happy that she's refusing to go to the hospital, but we all admire her courage. If anything goes wrong, she has a medic and two boys that can carry her back to the highway. Chris radioed Barry to bring us some packs and supplies tomorrow morning when we reach the highway." She wasn't asking. She was telling him.

' _And you're not invited. Pity. Guess they assume as well that you have better things to do, Captain. After all, you're going on vacation to put a bullet in someone's head.'_

He nodded; heels of his palms brought together and fingers enclosing as he caught the keys for the truck. Wesker finally submitted, there was no logical reason now for her not to continue. "Good. I'll swing by the forest station and report the attack before heading to the station. They'll need to put that cougar down before it attacks someone else. You three know the way, just lead her there. Chris, I know your rappel master certification renewal is soon. I'll sign it off if she comes back in one piece." Turning away, he began down the trail. "Good luck, Miss Valentine." His appearance and voice were cool as a November morning. Inside, he was smoldering for reasons he didn't understand or was flat out ignoring the reality of. It was probably for the best.

The thought did cross his mind to send them all home and he would accompany her. However, that wouldn't write away Rebecca leaving. She was the best medic he'd ever had the pleasure of having in his employment.

"Fear has its use but cowardice has none." Rebecca echoed after Wesker was long gone, seeing Chris finally finish carving out Jill's mark along with the rest of them. "Very deep."

"Very deep and very true. I like her." Redfield said with a grin, peering down at the little brunette dressed in white and green.

* * *

Forty five minutes later, they'd already put camp far behind them. Jill was sore and exhausted, finally talking with the rest of them. "I thought tactical travel was supposed to be quiet." The voice was hers but the words belonged to the blonde nursing a bruised ego somewhere between the mountains and Raccoon City.

"Yeah, but this week was supposed to be cougar free also…" Forest replied, slapping the back of his hand against Chris' shoulder. "Can you believe him?"

"Who? Wesker?" Redfield sounded a little preoccupied.

"Yeah, she gets here and he's charging through her training like a bull in a china shop. Cougar was a sign."

"Here we go again, Forest the half Cherokee. What was your tribal name again? Chief Running Mouth?" Chris grinned over at the long haired man.

"I'm serious, Chris. He's pushing her too hard. My tribal name is 'Two Dogs Screwing', by the way." He peered over his shoulder to Jill and Rebecca, both looking so confused. "When a child is born, they look out the door of their wigwam or tee-pee…"

"Or trailer house…" Chris chimed in.

Speyer grinned. "Shut up. Anyway, they look outside and the first thing they see is your name. My sister's is Little Blue Bird, my brother's is Spotted Horse…"

"And your parents hate you." Redfield couldn't help but snicker up a storm, dodging Forest's jabs. "I'm sorry, it's just too great."

"Real funny. Actually it's Red Elk, because... Well, daddy drank a lot."

"What do you mean that a cougar is a sign?" Jill asked, trudging along behind the pair of men. The S.T.A.R.S. logos on the back of their vests stood out boldly in the moonlight.

Forest and Chris exchanged a look, Redfield giving a shrug. "It means you're being preyed upon by someone if you believe Forest's grandmother who eats peyote religiously. It's a warning from the Sun God that you are in danger of manipulation or being killed." Compass fished out from his pocket, Chris peered down at the glowing face of it.

"I think the danger was the cat itself. Don't put much into that, Jill. I only think too much is being shoved down your throat where we all had plenty of time to get this under our belts. I know Irons is on your case like ugly on…Brian Irons." Stare drifted down to the compass as well, Forest frowns. "Are we lost?"

"Nah, just making sure we're good." Chris ran a hand through his short hair as they continued on. "What did you say, Becca?"

"I asked if you'd heard from Monica lately. You two still fighting or did you break up?"

Redfield was quiet for a while, hands resting on top of his head as they traveled in the dark. "She was fucking Wesker."

The two women jerked their stare to Chris in no time flat, both looking horrified. Forest must have already known since he was calm as a pond.

"Confront that dick about it yet?" Forest asked, looking over to Chris. Redfield's expression must have given it all away. "No, of course not. You let that guy walk all over you like you're his fucking door mat, man."

"Was going to this morning when he called me out here to observe Jill's progress so he could go 'take care of some things'. We were going to settle the score."

"Then the cougar showed up…and the plan was botched. Got it." Rebecca sighed heavily, stepping up to match Chris' pace and wrap her arms around his right bicep. "We love you, Chris. How did you find out?"

The short haired brunette shrugged. "She confessed last night. Monica was bawling her eyes out that he'd just turned her away out of the blue one day and wouldn't return her calls. Then his number was suddenly changed. She showed up at his house one night and he told her to leave and not come back unless she wanted a restraining order placed on her. It was almost like he'd cast a spell on her, she's just whacko over him. She didn't want me back, just…wanted to get it off her chest. Sorry, Jill. I know he's your friend."

"Fucking slut." Speyer spat out, hands jamming into his pockets as he peered through the trees. "Never get tangled up with a man in power, ladies. That was probably the best advice my dad ever gave my sister. Find one that can build his world around you, not his ego."

"I already have Ed, I don't think he'll be making captain any time soon. He's wanting to switch to the regular police force and make detective." Rebecca beamed, her pride in the man swelled so in her voice it was impossible to ignore.

"Dewey would make a good detective. How you holding up back there, Jill?" Forest asked over his shoulder.

"Doing fine, just hanging back and listening." She was glad they were caught up in their little world, gave her something to listen to and not think. She felt oddly fortunate that she wasn't being pursued by the blonde now. Being discarded by him looked like it was frequent. Still, guilt wept from her heart for the brunette man ahead of her.

' _Poor Chris. I remember meeting her that night we went to J's…before… God, Kevin why did you have to go?'_

Her thoughts wandered with every mile they traversed. Finally Chris began to hang back a bit, walking in stride with her. "How are you really holding up? I didn't see you at Slade's funeral. We all figured it was just too much for you considering the circumstances."

"I miss him." She uttered softly. Chris' hand on her shoulder felt warm and welcoming, like a brother's love radiated through the appendage.

' _I wasn't there for him.'_

"We'll get them, Jill. Don't worry about that. Boys in blue of Raccoon City will bury those pieces of shit." The long haired man called back. "Just focus this week on getting through this training. You'll be done after this, a member of S.T.A.R.S. to all of us and mission ready." A pause and he grinned as he peered ahead to the clearing they were approaching. "Maybe we can even go on a date."

"Forest!" Rebecca scolded, pinching the tall man's arm. "Not appropriate!"

"What? I only get one life to be shot down by every attractive woman I meet!"

Chris just rolled his eyes, hand dropping from Jill's shoulder at long last. He smiled down at her as soon as he noticed her cornflower gaze was on him.

She smiled back.

' _Kindred spirit.'_

' _ **Robin Hood types…'**_

Stare shifting back to the forest ahead of them, something kept nagging her about the omen of the feline. Somewhere in the dark, it licked its wound that she and her ignorance gave.

_And one day, she would regret not heeding the warning._

Not now, though. Now it was on to the mountain ahead.


	14. Chapter 14

"You comfortable with the Swiss Seat, Jill? Going to have to take it slow going down, but it should provide all the support you need."

Day 7 of Hell Week and Jill was ready to be done with this training. She gave a brief nod to Chris, backing up to the edge of the drop off. Already they'd crisscrossed over the mountains ensuring the landscape was a second home to her, covered most of the handbook on survival skills, and operational procedures out in the field just to kill the time. Secretly, she ate it all up and absorbed as much as possible. Much as before, the learning curve had been steep but Valentine wasn't one to shy away from it.

"This is it?" She peered up to Chris as she held fast and leaned back. The rope was taunt as she hung in the air with the tension and her feet against the stone the only reasons she wasn't dropping. Her arm was still bandaged, still very susceptible to popped stitches and infection. Rebecca had done a wonderful job keeping her going, despite it.

Redfield nodded. "Yup, get down to the ground below and you are done! Any questions at all?" he asked.

Jill shook her head, sweat rolling down her face. "No, I'm ready."

"Then I will see you at the bottom. Take your time." Head tipping to peer over his shoulder, he called out to the other two. "C'mon, Rebecca, you're next."

The rappel was far easier than she'd ever expected. Pushing off the wall, she'd slack the rope as she slid down. Stopping was a breeze, combat boots squared on the wall before her next push off the wall. Forest's cheering far above caused her face to flare red. On the ground, she gave her rope a tug and began to untie it.

"Now  **that**  was just about perfect, don't you agree Wesker?" Enrico asked, stepping away from the suburban shaded by the tall pines on the other side of the dirt road.

"I would say so." The blonde replied sounding almost bored; hands at the small of his back as he followed. Eyes shaded by sunglasses, he had a rather severe stare but it was hidden. Still seething from the last time he saw her, his anger was quickly fading. Now she was even filthier than before, the blood stains nothing but brown patches on her top and pants.

' _Beautiful…'_

"Where do you find these kids? She's fantastic." Marini didn't ever quite grasp why the other captain was so cool in expression, especially on the day his team was at last complete since the loss of three to a horrible helicopter crash two years prior. He chalked it up to personality and left it at that every time. As she began to help Rebecca, the aged brunette's praises continued. "Mauled by a cougar, still finished Hell Week. That's tough as nails right there. Asked Irons how it felt this morning after the rumor bus flew through the RPD about what happened out here."

"How what felt?" Wesker asked, peering over to Enrico.

A broad grin crept over the other captain's lips. "How it felt to have egg on his face." Both of them snickered at that before Enrico continued. "He turned around and started yelling at a traffic cop about something that made absolutely no sense."

"Total incompetence, I will never know how he made it out of the academy." Wesker's gaze shifted to the group at the base of the mountain. "Let me know when you finally decide to run against him."

At that, Enrico snorted. "Now why do you have to bring that up again? Last time you said that to me, that dipshit had me out with the traffic guys writing tickets for a month." Arms folded across his chest, he could only shake his head in displeasure as the other captain chuckled. "I swear, you say these things just so they'll become rumors and he ends up flipping out and has to take anger management courses and attend some EO retreat every year for being a fat racist bastard."

"Oh, I don't do that, Captain Marini. You must have me mistaken for some other Captain Wesker that Irons calls an 'ass clown' when he thinks I'm not right behind him."

"Those new police officers were pale as ghosts when he said that. Apparently you missed him calling you 'Hitler Youth', though." Enrico pinched at the bridge of his nose, chuckling softly. "Ah, this place would be dull without you. Outside of S.T.A.R.S., everyone fears you."

' _What are you talking about? Even in S.T.A.R.S. I am feared.'_

As Forest made contact with the ground, Wesker grinned a bit. He played along in these little 'heart to heart' moments Marini was so fond of. He came from the old Army, still acted like he was in it too, from time to time. "Well as long as they're under the impression I'm the Antichrist, who has an oven for people I dislike, they might stay in church and out of the whore houses. Last thing the police force needs is more cops turning into johns that get busted."

Finally Chris made it to the ground, everyone accounted for. Packs picked up, the four approached the two captains. Enrico addressed the group first, arms out wide in a greeting. "Welcome back to civilization, kids. Hope you four enjoyed your vacation."

Forest's expression dropped at that. Captain Marini never started that line without something to follow. "What's happened?"

"Hotel murders… just got passed down to Bravo Team." Enrico's arms dropped. "Rebecca, you're going to be briefed for undercover with two blue suits. Seems this creep has a thing for young brunette ladies, and we're setting a trap." Brushing his index and thumb over his mustache, the aged captain sighed deeply. "I wish I could give you two the night off, but I need ya. You did a good thing for the team looking out for her. We need that cohesion. I promise the first chance I get that I'm giving you two a week off." Both Forest and Rebecca gave their captain the usual 'high-five', despite their exhaustion.

' _Kind words from a man that won't follow through on his promise. No spine when it comes to Irons and his demands.'_  Wesker stepped around, beckoning for the other two to approach him. Both Redfield and Valentine looked worn out. "Alright, Chris you have the night off. You're dismissed to return to the RPD with Bravo Team. Have a good weekend; I'll see you on Monday."

"What about Jill?" Curiosity was about to kill the Chris.

The brunette woman dropped her gaze to her boots, having a hunch what was coming next between the two men.

Somehow, Albert's usual cold tone didn't shine through. "Miss Valentine needs to stick around, I have a few questions for her about her experience. Hopefully she's ready to tell me why she disobeyed my orders before this training exercise began." His lensed eyes peered over to the brunette man. "Anything else, Redfield?"

"Uh… yeah, there is something I need to talk to you about. It's important, though about a private matter." Redfield looked five shades of uncomfortable.

"Can it wait until Monday when I don't have an insubordinate recruit on my hands?" Brows popped, the blonde waited for a reply. He half expected Chris to have his usual out of body when being told to wait. To his surprise, it never came.

"Yeah… It can wait." Turning away, the brunette man gathered his pack and slung it over his shoulder. He paused to rest a hand on Jill's shoulder. "You did good Jill. Welcome to Alpha Team."

"Thanks, Chris." She nodded, offering a weak smile as Redfield departed to leave with Bravo Team.

' _Great, time to face the music.'_

As the suburban disappeared down the dusty road, Wesker turned his gaze back to Jill. "So, you managed to pick a fight with a wild animal, and landed yourself here for a week without shower or a decent meal. Still glad you stayed?"

Her gaze remained low, eyes slowly blinking. "Yes." She'd finally hit the wall.  _'Didn't pick a fight with that stupid cat, thanks.'_

"Bullshit." He slowly circled her, finally coming to a stop at her side. "Your stubborn attitude could have gotten you killed. Second time since you've been in Raccoon City that's happened. We're just lucky nobody ended up dead because of your choice this time."

"I needed this, whether you want to admit that or not. I needed the experience out here." Pack dropped, she idly examined the bandaging on her arm.

Sunglasses removed, he glared at her. "I've been at this game a lot longer than you have, Jill. I suggest you never forget that. You follow my lead from now on."

"Is that what you told Monica?" She asked, blue eyes staring at him.

His expression dropped, only a moment later realizing his jaw had dropped as well. "I-…"

Her gaze rested ahead of her on the trees. "Chris knows. It's what he wants to talk to you about on Monday." As he sighed and turned away while hand running through his hair, she knew she'd effectively evaded the argument.

"I had no idea she was seeing him, honestly. Not until I saw her picking him up from work one day. She's a regular badge chaser. Dating several officers before Redfield, her name is well known at the station." He slid his sunglasses back on, a hand digging into his pocket for the keys to the truck. Picking up her pack, he strode to the truck's driver side. Pack dumped in the bed, he unlocked the doors. "Let's go."

"Why did you break it off?" Jill asked as soon as she was comfortably in the passenger seat, seatbelt fastened.

"Because there was no point in continuing a relationship based on orgasms with her." The engine roared into life as he turned the key in the ignition. Putting the truck in reverse, he swung the vehicle around to face the direction Bravo Team's vehicle had taken.

"Why?"

Drive selected, the vehicle rolled forward a few feet before the blonde in the brake. Looking over to her, his brows lifted. "Why, what?"

"Why did you break it off? Doesn't sound like a bad arrangement."

"She wanted more of my time. I didn't want more of hers." Brake released, he pushed on the gas and fixed his stare on the road. "Good enough answer?"

She peered over to him, her expression guarded. "No."

His stare clicked briefly from the dirt road to her, then back. "What do you want me to say?"

Jill ignored the question, not interested in a confrontation with a brick wall, pulling down the sun visor hoping for a mirror. She immediately regretted looking at herself, flicking it back up. Dirt, dried blood she'd missed and her hair was oilier than an oil field in Kuwait.

The blonde caught the look on her face, shaking his head. "You look fine…"

Her expression softened a bit, blue eyes peering over at him fondly.

"For warmed over death." A slap to his arm and he laughed. The sound was genuine, free, and rarely heard even by her. His pearly smile was a wonderful thing to see after a week of little contact with him.

"Ass." She dropped her hand, looking out the passenger side window. The world sped past them at 45 mph, nothing but trees and mountains.

"Oh, don't be like that. You know that I love you." His entire form remained relaxed, not even a twitch of recoil. Fingers still absently drumming, his gaze flicked between the mirrors and the road. Never in his life, however, had he wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel more.  _'Oh God…'_

' _Did he…?'_  Jill peered over to him, confusion scribbled on her features. "You, what?" She had to be mistaken. Heat exhaustion, surprise rattle snake bite…something.

"I misspoke." He seamlessly sounded honest in that remark.

Artic hued eyes widened, she was speechless still. Her stare flicked to the console, no words escaping her.

The silence was too much for the man that admitted nothing and made up everything usually. Radio clicked to a local talk radio, the drone of two men arguing politics filled the cabin of the truck.

She still was silent.

His brows knit, fingers once again drumming on the steering wheel. "It isn't as though I care nothing for you. I do, actually. You're just…too much for someone like me."

' _William and Annette would disagree, though. They find us humorous to watch.'_

Jill was quiet for a long time. "I just want to know you have my back." Her blue eyes drifted to the blonde's face as he drove in the Colorado twilight. She'd given him an out.

Sunglasses off, he tossed them on the dash between them. "You have my word." Albert replied simply. "I promise."

"It could have worked."

"It could have." He admitted to that much. They were alone.

"Could it have in this lifetime?"

"Only if Irons ate one too many Twinkies and exploded. Probably would be looking at a long term commitment before it'd have been safe to say anything. Even then, we couldn't work together."

"But, Rebecca and Ed…"

"Are not you and I, dear heart. I am still your captain, believe it or not."

"I could always have dug up some dirt on his fat ass to silence him." She said with a frown, gaze shifting to the outskirts of Raccoon City blowing by. The leaves were beginning to change color, autumn well on its way.

"Now that…would have been very naughty of you, Jill. I'll pretend I didn't hear it." His grin returned a small bit.  _'I would love to see what she could find.'_

Arriving at the RPD, the pack was dumped off in his office, a few waves given to those she recognized before she rejoined her captain in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger seat of his black car, she smiled weakly and offered him the key she'd taken to his office. "Here."

Fingers curled about the key, he slid it back on the ring before starting the car. "Thank you." Backing out of the parking space, he paused briefly before throwing the shifter into drive.  _'Spencer's here?'_

Sure enough, the old man approached the car on the passenger side. A gentle thump of his knuckles and Jill rolled down the window. "Well, I was hoping to catch you both before it got dark." He reached an aged hand in, gesturing for Jill to show him her arm. "Let's see the damage." As she lifted it up, Oswell carefully took the forearm between his own two. "Oh, you'll be alright. Irons said you were attacked by a rabid coyote or something. Too much bandaging for a coyote…"

"Cougar," Jill uttered softly in reply.

A deep sigh and the old man patted the top of her head. "We got lucky, Jilly. Your father wouldn't last long without you, my dear." A smile and he looked to Albert. "We'll talk later, get her home." Hand retracted, he stepped away and waved them off.

It was only after Jill rolled up the window and the RPD was two blocks in his rear view mirror did Albert utter a word. "Last person I wanted to see today."

"Why is that?" Curious, she wandered her hands through her short brunette hair.

Giving her a look, his eyes rolled as he peered away. "Just too busy with getting you up to speed and settled to drop everything and meet for whatever is going on with your father's case."

"He's just trying to help…" She offered gently.

"Not really, Jill. If Spencer wanted, he could force feed that Colombian slime ball Devil's Breath and make that man confess to everything in a court."

"Devil's Breath?"

"It comes from a white flower that grows from a tree in Columbia. Scopolamine is the final product. Used normally in motion sickness medications for severe nausea and other troubles, though its original use is a toss-up between helping people and drugging them into a state where they'd obey without question." He clicked the turn signal at the red light, intentions of turning left. "Read a few reports from people in Colombia robbing their own houses, helping the one who drugged them do the crime."

"How do you know that?" She asked, curiosity perked to its peak.

"I'm a cop, and I get motion sickness. I have to have a prescription for the stuff if I want to fly anywhere. Not a big fan of cruises either, since you're so curious about me." He finally grinned a bit at her, the idea of getting away clearly something on his mind, even if it was in passing. "It works well despite the intimidating factor that in a high dose it could turn me into a mindless being willing to do what someone else encourages me to do or kill me." Light green, he pulled through the intersection.

"What makes you think Mr. Spencer would be willing to use it? He doesn't do anything illegal."

' _Aw, that's cute. Jilly, dear… I want to be as naïve as you, is there room under that rock for two?'_ He couldn't tell her that, though. "I'm …thinking out loud. He has enough money to hire someone to just take care of something like this. Arvada sits in jail on the taxpayer's dime… It's a bit infuriating to think about."

"Someone like Dad?"

"Indeed. Though your father only stole things."

"He's been a mechanic, garbage man…though he gave up that when he met Mom." Old words, a tongue rarely used by those who didn't do business in the shadows.

"Didn't know that," he replied. Albert knew full well, yet once again he had to play the game. Ten minutes passed and they pulled into the driveway of his house. Killing the engine, he sighed deeply, staring at the brick façade of the building. "I am not leaving this house until Monday."

She smiled at him. "I would say it's a weekend of heavy drinking and poor choices."

"I would concur but I've seen what you drag home." Seat belt unfastened, the door was opened as the six foot blonde man drug himself out of the vehicle.

Doors shut one after the other, the pair made their way to the door. The sky was almost dark, only a smear of red to be seen in the west.

"I love it here." Jill commented; her gaze fixed with his to the west.

"So do I," the key slid into the lock and he led the way inside.


	15. Chapter 15

 

_Theme: Your Woman-White Town_

* * *

Stepping out of the bathroom, he found Jill curled in bed still. The alarm clock showed 8:45 AM in glowing red. No need to do anything but crawl back in bed despite the light that tried to penetrate the shades. Sliding between the sheets, a plethora of gentle affections found that soft curve of her neck. Strong hands slipped to the small of her back, gently rubbing the tender skin. If the woman never woke from her slumber to the gentle show of devotion, Albert wouldn't have cared. Her form stirred beneath his lips and hands, waking with a gentle smile upon Jill's face.

"Good morning beautiful…" The whispered words were accompanied by a tender display of affection to her lips.

"Good morning to you, too." Rolling over, messy strands of brown hung in odd directions from the way she slept. "What time is it?" Snuggled down under the comforter, blue eyes were once again hidden by lids as the war to get up continued. The sleepless coloration about her eyes was noticeable to say the least.

Fingers found their way over the blanket's surface to draw them back. "Too early." Her body clothed in only in that RPD shirt was not helping motivate him to let her sleep on. Sneaky hands found their way up under the shirt, drawing it up. The pads of his fingers dragged along the curve of her cleavage and then up where they mapped out freckles dotting along her collarbone and below, tracing the unknown constellations that covered the skin. His sky, the only one the man ever cared to look upon again so long as he lived. His stare flicked up to her face, finding her gaze on him.

No words passed her lips; only the sound of her breathing could be heard. His fingers wandering to sensitive spot caused her to jerk. Poking him in the chest, her eyes closed again. "Quit." She commanded softly.

A grin and he laughed as she prodded him again when he didn't obey. The prod of annoyance, though she was starting to forgive, her own palms wandering over his hands. Lips parting, his mouth met hers in an insatiable kiss. Fingers wagging their way down to her hips, he rotated the pads of his thumbs along the soft skin, careful of the bruising. The chilled air caused him to tense as the woman managed to tug his shirt open. Chest to chest, Albert held her tightly. "I love you so much…"

"I love you too…" Muffled words wound their way from Jill's lips as she shivered. "Shower. Now. Before I freeze right here." Squirming free, the hot water was kicked on as soon as she was in the bathroom.

At the sink, his watch had to be discarded on the basin before joining her. Not paying attention for that brief moment, a pair of lavender panties went whizzing past, directly within his line of sight. Head jerking, steel blue eyes blinked and tilted their gaze to her grin. "Trying to take my head off?" Albert smirked as the woman slipped into the stall. Following in suit, arms wove as the pair clung to one another beneath the spray of heated water.

"We're not going anywhere, are we?"

"Not at all, dear heart. I'm all yours for the next two days." Assuring words brought forth, more kisses were bestowed to her shoulder and neck.

"Was hoping for more than just two days…" She muttered, nose pressed against his chest.

To that, he chuckled. Pressing her against the cold tile wall, thoughts washed away as motion and instinct took hold. Bodies fused, her legs cinched to his waist, the water was the least of the heat to be felt. Nose trailing against the soft skin lining her throat, the blonde's mouth nipped the jawline and then wandered back against her ivory throat. A lingering kiss took him in, a gentle sound aired on both of their parts. It certainly set the pace he took, careful to keep her from slipping from his grasp.

Her ruthless nails raked along the flesh of his shoulder blades to the spine. The slickened haired girl's teeth were no less in wagging for his attention, delivering less than gentle affections to the skin spanning the blonde's neck and shoulder. Minx indeed… one that knew him well enough that she blindly could find where pressure caused him to seize and gasp for breath.

' _You are all I need…'_

The water trickled down their interwoven bodies, flecked in droplets that clung to skin for dear life before dripping down due to gravity's horrible claim.

Tipping her head back, Jill's ocean blue eyes fixed on her mate's pools of silvery cerulean. He drank it all in, the sight of her before him—the star spray of freckles that clung to her cheeks; the wounds on her shoulders slowly healing from a week before; a small scar on her left nostril from a nose ring that never would be used again. The hand which wasn't aiding in supporting her trailed to feel, tracing unseen lines along delicate skin. He saw everything in this instance, almost overwhelmed by it all… by her. Even after he'd claimed her as many times as he already had… Digits in her hair, he smiled faintly as her own palms found the back of his neck.

"You're so beautiful." Albert muttered, eyes shutting as his lips sought hers again. There was more to it than that. During this time, it was all he could say. She knew and that was all which mattered as their intimacy flared further.

Hands winding tightly knit together, the water cascaded over and between the flaws of where their beings were separate still, much as it would wear at stone over time. Unfortunately for water, they weren't about to erode to its will. No, it was beneath this moment. She cried out first, face buried against his shoulder as her body quivered.

It wasn't long for him after…

* * *

A prodding almost awoke the blonde man. Finally a few swats of a feather pillow to the back of his head stirred him from his dead slumber. "What?" Disoriented, half asleep, he peered up at Jill standing at the side of the bed.

"There's no coffee."

Groaning, he rolled over. Another swat with the pillow and rolled back. "What? Why are you out of bed?"

Sleepy voice, the pale stones of her fingernails rubbed at the exhaustion clinging to her eyes. "What are you talking about? You don't have a spare bed."

A realization rolling in late, his head was dumped back onto the pillow. "Never mind, I'll be up in a few minutes."

' _Cold shower now. Therapy soon.'_

* * *

Coffee on the back deck, they sat across from one another under the shade of the parasol. A breakfast fitting of two people who hadn't eaten since the previous day and a copy of ' _Spoon River Anthology'_  between them, she read and he listened. A clean RPD shirt hung from Jill's shoulders. Two sizes too big, it was clearly not hers if the word 'CAPTAIN' stenciled on the back wasn't proof enough. The signs of her long trip were gone, a shower having pelted away all traces of dirt and blood. Fresh bandaging on her arm, morphine now replaced with Tylenol, she was feeling a bit better.

"So, Silas Dement was an arsonist?"

"Anarchist arsonist.  _'For I was punished like all who destroy the past for the sake of the future.'"_

"Who ever knew that a fire bug could hold such ideals higher than the urge to watch something burn." Albert replied, a sip taken of his black coffee. In another life, he would openly admit the passage was one of best he'd ever heard. The book had sat on his shelf for years, ignored until Valentine's curious fingers and tugged it from its place earlier that morning.

"Such a sad book of poems, I've never read anything like it. It's like the author went walking through a graveyard interviewing the final testaments of the dead who lived in a time where you never knew if tomorrow was going to bring disease, conflict, and or death."

' _Such a deep little creature, Miss Valentine.'_

Closing the worn volume, Jill set it on the squatting glass table next to them, favoring her cup of coffee. "S.T.A.R.S. has had to deal with arsonists?"

Albert nodded slowly and stared off at the yard. Rose bushes were loaded in sanguine blooms. It would be the last time they bloomed until spring.

"There was a group of them that we had to deal with. At first, they weren't really a problem. They filed for burn permits, had controlled fires and it was commonly thought they were just people trying to help clean up the community. In reality, they were practicing for their main event. Then one night we got the call that a house had been burned down, an entire family had died in their sleep. Then another and finally they were all caught. All of them carried this small book based on the ideas of some ancient cult of Christ that was excommunicated by the Catholic Church after burnings were no longer allowed against those accused of witchcraft." Coffee set on the table, his attention diverted to the half-eaten omelet still on his plate. Onions, tomatoes and cheese.

"Must have made the  _Malleus Maleficarum_  look tame if they were excommunicated," she replied absently, the robin eggs that were her eyes drifting their stare.

"They were targeting Raccoon City's pagan population. One little book left in the yard of a burned down house changed the entire investigation. All of them got the chair. Hope they remembered to take two coins for the boat ride."

"How many were in there?" She asked softly.

"Twelve. Their leader was a woman whose husband left her for a Wiccan girl. I remember sitting in the back of the courtroom listening to her rant and rave about how this girl had cast a spell on her poor husband and made him leave her. That was why she had to burn all of the 'witches'."

"That's absolutely terrible."

"Unfortunately the badge comes with a price: you are a shepherd to a flock of lemmings all trying to kill one another for one petty reason or the other." Cell phone ringing on the table, the blonde reached over to retrieve it. Flipping it open, he rested the device against his ear. "Wesker."

"Oh good, you didn't die!" William beamed on the other end of the line.

' _Christ…'_  An inward sigh and Albert had no choice but to give up his plate to the brunette woman as she gathered up the dishes. "Morning, Will. How are you?"

"Good, just finishing up at the lab. Was wondering what you were making of all of this. Annette's eyes about rolled out of her head this morning when she showed the invitation to me." Dropping a file on the lab technician's desk, Birkin began to make his way back towards his own office down the hall.

"What are you talking about?" Legs stretched out in front of him, Wesker's gaze narrowed. "What invitation?"

"When was the last time you checked your mail?" The scraggly scientist asked, nodding to an intern in passing.

"Monday, why?"

William snickered a bit. "Go check it, you're gonna love this."

Jill appeared from inside, seeming to have heard them through the walls as she returned with an ivory gloss envelope with gold lettering. Holding it up for view, she nodded as he gestured for her to go ahead and crack into it. Opening it, she sat down in the patio chair next to the blonde. "Mister Spencer is getting married."

Albert's expression fell through its deadpan to utter confusion. "Ozwell is doing what?"

On the other end of the line, William's laughing could be heard. "Right?! She's like three times younger than he is."

"How old did you say she was?" Albert asked William after a long pause, peering over Jill's shoulder as she read the wedding invitation. He quietly read over her, silently mouthing the words scripted.

"Annette said she has to be somewhere in her early twenties."

A hand ran through his pale hair, Wesker shook his head. "Like wedding his granddaughter, that's going to be a blissful marriage." Jill's wide eyes caused him to grin.

"So are you going?" Will asked, plopping down in his office chair. "The engagement party is tonight."

Leaned back, the blonde man sighed deeply. Eyes shifted to Jill, he frowned. "When is this train wreck happening?"

"Three weeks from today."

' _Shit…'_  Stare lifting skyward, he sighed deeply. "I should be back in time. How big is this going to be?"

William spun around in the chair, air blown out between puffed cheeks. "It's at the estate and Mr. Death will be attending. That clarify things?"

Wesker rolled his pale eyes, shaking his head. "Perfectly, I'll let you know." Clicking the phone shut, he set it aside before rubbing his eyes in a circular motion.  _'So stupid, they're seriously going to lock up all of the buildings and try to make the place seem like any other? It's not a fucking house; it's a factory for diseases. The security for the place will have to be extensive. Might be the perfect time to make off with the samples or just get infected…'_  The only reasonable explanation in his mind would be that the bride had heard of the place or saw it and fell in love with it.

' _Whether we're ready for this…is an entirely different story.'_

One look at Jill's bandaged arm and he decided against it.

"What do you get a billionaire as a wedding gift?" Jill asked absently, her gaze drifting back to Albert. The blonde man's unknowing expression and shrug wasn't much help as he set the phone on the patio table. Whatever had disturbed him was quickly buried under his usual deadpan expression.

Giving his mug a little swish, he took a sip of coffee. "Alcohol seems to be loved no matter how much money you have." He peered up at the trees dotting the privacy fence along the back of his yard—oaks, their large leaves already changing in color. "Hope you weren't planning on going with someone, I can't let you out of my sight."

Long lashes lifted with their lids as she looked over to him. "I'd need to get time off. My boss is a real stickler. He yelled at me in the woods yesterday for 'not obeying orders'. Can you believe him?"

Smirking, the blonde finished his coffee. "He sounds like a dick. Though, I think your boss might give you that time off. It's just a hunch that he'd be willing to do that for you, Miss Valentine."

Brow lofting, she leaned back against the plush cushioning of her chair. "Really, now?" Doe eyes lifted to stare at him.

A wicked grin played on his lips after a moment. "I'd imagine he would let you go so long as you didn't run off. Might want to show a little appreciation to the man for giving you time off."

Stare drifting out, she pondered for a moment. "Could be his designated driver home." Reaching into the envelope she held up the invitation for that evening.

"Charming," he retorted softly, taking a long sip from the mug. It would take some coaxing to convince him to leave the house.

* * *

The Metropolis hotel was more of a resort than an actual hotel, despite that it was in a single skyscraping building in downtown Raccoon City. It was another one of Spencer's cash cows that raked in revenue and entertained his wealthy investors during their visits.

Albert had dressed appropriately in a tux, cologne patted along his neckline. The comment of how Jill pictured hunky men on a beach when smelling it caused Albert to roll his eyes. Parking, one of the stewards for the hotel met them at the front door, taking the bag that Wesker presented to him. "Room 819, please." The blonde said, giving the man a tip for handling the bag. Double doors opened, the duo strode in side by side.

Other couples passing them caught Jill's attention, blue eyes watching slim gloved hands of the women clutching to the bicep of their male counterparts. She blew her air out, eyes switching their stare forward.

Apparently, they were fashionably late to this event. William and Annette greeted the pair in the lobby. From the looks on their faces, Albert predicted this was going to be a long night. "Well, aren't you two a sight for sore eyes?" He began, stepping up to give Annette a hug and William a handshake.

Annette shared a hug with Jill, though William was muttering something to Wesker that rewarded the short scientist with a jab to the arm. "Oww! I was just kidding!" He yelped, rubbing his arm. "Sheesh, spouse abuse over here. I need a police man."

"How about a female officer?" Annette asked, wrapping an arm over Jill's shoulders. "I heard from a little bird that someone got the last position on your team, Albert. It was in the papers. Irons slathered enough praise about what she and the other newcomers to the RPD would bring to the security of Raccoon City you almost wanted to believe him."

"Yes, right next to the ad for the Looney bin." William piped up, slipping away from Albert before another jab could be delivered. "Hey! No more, I am a delicate flower that Annette will not hesitate to defend. My wife is a black belt."

A snort from his wife and she was dragging Jill away. "Yeah, black belt in bullshit, maybe. You're on your own; let's hit the bar, Missy." As Albert made to follow, Annette tipped her head back. "Girl talk. You understand." A pearly grin saw him stop and jam his hands into his pockets. "Only borrowing her for a little bit, you'll be fine with Will and she is safe with me."

Once the two were out of sight, William and Albert headed for the main ballroom where the crowd was gathered. "So, it looks like you were right." The scrawny scientist said as they made their way for the bar inside the ballroom. "Heard about how she almost lost her arm to a cougar. Not too shabby. I guess I shouldn't have doubted you."

"Oh William, when will you ever learn to trust me?." Albert scoffed, grabbing the bartender's attention. "Scotch on the rocks."

"Heard that Cassandra is back and she's just..." Making a gesture for large breasts, William grinned. "..So smart!"

Seeming to ponder this for all of two seconds, Wesker rolled his eyes. "Slut returned from Europe? Shocking that someone hasn't put a bullet in her head yet." There was something raw in his voice as he spoke.

It worried William, but he did his best to not stir the fire. "We may just get that lucky. She's here with some new investor that flew in from Hong Kong who came for an exchange but stayed for the party. She is his official mistress or some garbage. Glorified whore."

"If she wasn't a whore, I'd doubt you, Will." The blonde said with a snicker, taking his drink from the bar after it was presented to him. "We know anything else?"

A small business card was dug out of Birkin's pocket, slid to his counterpart. "He wanted me to give him a briefing about the product tomorrow."

Room 507.

William's chicken scratch beneath caused the blonde to lift a lightly colored brow.

_Nemesis._

Meanwhile, Jill and Annette were checking out the humble little gallery within the hotel. Mostly local artists, a few did strike interesting conversation between the pair. Glasses filled with wine, they seemed to be having a good time chit chatting.

"So, how are things at the RPD? William told me that you had a bad run in with some of the wildlife during training."

"It was pretty ugly. Wesker wanted me out of the field and at home." The short haired brunette replied, long sleeved gloves and a small jacket over her black dress did well to hide the marks of the attack.

Annette smirked a little over the rim of her glass. "Odd that he tried to kick you out only to practically drag you back as soon as you came to stay with us."

Brows popped, Jill frowned deeply. "I think he is just paranoid."

Annette rested a hand on Jill's shoulder. "Probably, and for your own sake: don't get too comfortable."

To such a statement, Jill nodded. "I don't intend on it. The sooner I am moved out, the better." A sip of wine taken and her stare returned to the painting. The small plaque dictated it was the first depiction of Lucifer falling from Heaven. A recreation by a local artist, but still very good.

"Those Gucci?" The blonde woman asked, gazing over Jill's right foot.

"Mhm, a few seasons old but that makes them cheaper. Mom taught me that."

The blonde woman smiled, nudging Jill's arm. "Well, we should get back to the boys."

* * *

In the ballroom, the band had begun to play as the two women began to descend the grand staircase. Unlike years ago, the booked group had someone actually singing.

"Oh my, Spencer booked Miss Piper. I've heard she's actually good." Annette said with a laugh, recognizing the lead singer who stepped forward to the microphone as the first chord of Frank Sinatra's  _"Fly Me to the Moon"_  played out.

The young woman looked around Jill's age, sporting a red and strapless evening gown. Her brunette strands were twisted back into a French bun, necklace glittering in the spotlight. Ruby lips parting, she began to sing. The lovely voice of the girl hit all four walls of the vast room, grasping the attention of every person within.

The song carried on in, the singer leading it by the reins as she moved back and forth across the stage once the microphone was out of its stand. A finger pointed towards the audience, she threw them an award winning smile.

As the song moved into its second chorus, a young man stepped out onto the stage dressed in traditional attire for Sinatra's time. Grabbing onto the girl, they shared a brief bit of dancing, the singer spun about before resuming the song. Cheering ensued for the entertainment. Perching on the piano, she then began singing to the man playing it _._ The man smiled up at her, playing the last few notes.

Applause and the girl gave a quick bow before more music began to pick up again. Annette gave a sigh, taking a sip from her glass. "If I had the lungs and voice of Joan Piper, I don't think I'd be working in Raccoon City. Then again, if I was Joan Piper, I'd have a mess of problems. I'm sure this gig is the most work she has seen in ages."

Jill nodded. "I recognize her from J's bar."

Annette gave a nod. "Yeah, that's her father's place. She came back from the military with no ability to do her job and raise a baby so she works for him. William used to take me to a really piano bar called 'Pure' where she used to sing. The rumor mill is practically built over that poor girl's house. Serve your country, come home and end up the pun of every joke in town. It's disgusting, these people should show her a little more respect."

The brunette woman frowned lightly at that, spotting William and Albert at the far end of the room. Prodding the blonde woman with her, she set off toward them.

Spencer showed himself after about forty-five minutes. "Well now, I was wondering where my real friends were hiding this evening." The old man said with a laugh, escorting a blonde haired woman along behind him. She was dressed to impress in a champagne colored gown and matching jewelry, appearing significantly younger than Annette or Jill. "Everyone, this is Victoria. Victoria, I'd like you to meet my chief of research, William Birkin and his wife, Annette."

Annette and Will both smiled and nodded to her, the scruffy scientist keeping an arm around his wife.

The old man released his fiancée's hand. "Albert Wesker, an old friend from back when I started Umbrella. He ran security for me."

' _Really? I remember being your other top researcher...'_ Albert thought bitterly. Deadpan expression fixed to his face as he gazed at Spencer. The girl's 'bedroom eyes' were very much avoided by the blonde haired man as he nodded. A deep sigh, he took a long drink from his glass.  _'Eyes on your own paper, young one.'_

Ozwell stopped in front of Jill. "And Jill Valentine, daughter of my oldest and dearest friend, Dick. Darling, Dick used to do book keeping for me." His fiancée seemed hardly interested in the story, but it didn't stop the aged man from continuing. "I wished your father could be here tonight." Leaning over to peck a kiss on Jill's cheek, he grasped her hand to give it a pat. "I am very glad to see you, though, my dear. I heard you were having trouble finding a suitable house. I've got one for you to stay in as long as you like. Had a researcher move to another branch and the place is empty now." As Jill's lips opened to protest, he lifted a wrinkled palm to quell her. "Don't worry about anything but the bills to keep the lights on and water running." Stepping back, he pointed a finger to Miss Valentine with a smile. "Consider it a gift for your recent acceptance into S.T.A.R.S., very proud of how far you've come. I'll be watching with great interest."

William and Albert exchanged a look behind the old man's back. Both were nearly bristling at just what the kook could possibly have meant by that. Annette clearing her throat caused the pair to snap their stares elsewhere. Both men polished off their glasses of hard liquor almost in unison.

The cropped haired brunette woman smiled. "Thank you, Mister Spencer. It means the world to me what you've done for Dad and me."

"Oh, Jilly, you're family. I'll have my driver drop the keys off at the RPD for you on Monday. Go take a look, if you like it then it's yours. Enjoy your evening, all of you!" He was quick to return to the latest love of his life and drag her along to introduce her to even more guests.

The four just watched in amazement, Annette the first to speak.

"If he didn't get married so much, I wouldn't have a good excuse for having so many evening gowns."

A few minutes passed, and having gone to the bar for a refill on her and Albert's drinks, Jill's face was scribbled in confusion as she handed Wesker his glass. "There's a woman glaring at you."

Silvered blue hues turned their stare and he sighed. "Oh, that's Cassandra." He took a swig from his glass. "Old girlfriend." Valentine's expression approaching insecurity caused him to lean in and speak softly. "You should go arrest her for looking constipated."

"No thanks, she's got a scary look on her face." Jill did her best to not be obvious, peeking an eye past the blonde's shoulder. Albert's comment of it probably being a bad Botox job caused her to snort.

"Annette is scarier than her; don't start talking about someone dethroning the 'Queen of Mean'." William chirped, grinning to his wife. "I love you, baby."

"Shut it, William." Annette grumbled, though her face expressed sympathy as she spoke. "Cassandra's a regular at Spencer's events like this. There's a whole group of women that used to sleep with Ozwell that are just passed around by his circle of friends. She's just here with whoever she's screwing now. A sad life to lead and I will have no issue making a scene in front of everyone if she decides to saunter her fat ass over here." A sip taken from her glass, her eyes shifted towards the bar.

"Now now, we don't need to bring in the big guns to deal with a 'five euro red light special', Annette. You were her American girlfriend; just settle it with a good old fashioned cat fight in the parking lot." Wesker's grin did not go over too well, and neither did William laughing.

"Shut it, Albert." If Annette had a match, Wesker would have been set on fire.

"Consider it done, Annette. If all of you would excuse me…" He said, barely able to contain his sleek laughter as he swiftly strolled away.

Stare meeting Cassandra's, his gate reduced its pace until he came to a stop. "Hello, stranger."

Dark eyes lifting to meet the Arian's own, Cassandra tipped back her drink before speaking. "Hello to you."

"Care to go for a stroll down memory lane?" Surgeon's fingers extended were met with hers as she silently accepted the offer.

Jill's brows furrowed as he departed, watching the exchange and the pair disappear.

William and Annette didn't even bother watching him. Their eyes rested on the brunette girl doing her best to make a mental wall out of sand.

* * *

The night drug on with more loud music, drinks, and expensive oeuvres. A few other patrons stopped to talk to the Birkins. Chief Irons made his appearance, though didn't stop to chat-too busy trying to scarf down shrimp cocktail to natter or even notice the Birkins were standing with the woman that Albert had recruited. "He looked right at me and didn't even recognize me."

"Take it as a compliment. He rapes the ones he remembers." William said bitterly. "I will never get why he's not behind bars."

Annette let her air out. "I'm getting another drink. Will, take our fearless officer out for a dance."

* * *

Cassandra was always a light weight. He could see she was already drunk by the way she laughed during their reminiscing in the hotel's bar. "Why did I ever leave you, Albert?" She tried her hand at seduction, nails dragging along his jawline.

"I don't know why, dear heart. You left."

Three martinis, thirty minutes of playing catch up and she was leaving her lipstick on Wesker's collar in the elevator.

"He's nothing like you."

A hand on her thigh drawn against his waist and the blonde grinned down at her. "I know, Cassandra…" Mouth engulfing hers, he crushed the woman against the wall of the elevator.

Third floor, she was groping at his abdominals under the fabric of a white shirt. His hand drew across for something hidden under the arm of his jacket.

Fourth floor, the silencer made the Samurai Edge barely growl louder than a whisper.

Fifth floor, key card in hand, Wesker exited the elevator. He sent the cabin on its way skyward to the executive suites on the fifteenth floor. Some poor soul would find the dark haired beauty in a pool of her own blood and foolishness.

' _What a way to end a relationship.'_

Weapon holstered, he strode down the hall towards his destination. Gold numbering greeted the man's sight as he slid the card into the lock. Green meant go. Handle turned, shoulder on the door, he went for the weapon once more.

' _Show time.'_

Door swung open, he saw the first man on the edge of the bed. On the trigger, Wesker had him put down and was already on his next target before the first body hit the floor. Only two and they both went down without a struggle. Good news for him.

Surveying the darkened room, he stepped past the bed towards the closet on the far side. Drawing back the doors, Wesker found the safe past a few gaudy dresses. Cassandra's taste involved anything that made her look like she was spilling out of her dress. He wouldn't miss that.

Knelt, the blonde began punching in the master code as he remembered it. The hotel always kept a code on hand for higher staff. The safe buzzed its disdain after receiving an incorrect code.

"Shit." He grumbled, fishing his phone from his pocket.

William slipped away from Jill after the dance, gesturing his phone was ringing. Stepping on the marble of the hallway, he finally answered. Three missed calls. "Dr. Birkin speaking."

"Oh really? I thought this was Raccoon City's metal ward."

"Oh, you. What's wrong?"

"Master code was changed." He attempted another code. More buzzing and red lights were his reward.

A heavy sigh and William ran a hand through his hair. "Then just get out of there. We'll have another chance at this one. Two men I hired are on their way already to clean up."

Wesker peered over his shoulder towards one of the corpses in the darkened room. "I have a better idea."

William's brows knit as the line began to howl pure noise. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?!"

Uzi dropped, the blonde knelt again. "Improvising, William." Hanging up, he began to pry the small, bullet hole ridden door off.

Noticing he'd attracted the attention of a few people, William hung up and waved to them mid stride on his way back to the ballroom. "Sorry… Daughter is throwing a keg party…with weed. Gotta…go ground her and read the Bible to her."

* * *

Removing the contents of the safe, the blonde made sure to take everything. Even useless trash had to go. The few documents were easily slid into the inner pocket of his jacket. Extracting the real reason he'd gone to all of this trouble, Albert sighed at the steel tube that rested in his hand. Turning it over, he was greeted with the sight of the parasite under glass and suspended in a violet liquid.

He was careful to wipe his prints before leaving. Two men with a laundry cart passed him in the hall. Tattooing peeked out from under the cuff of the nearest man, no eye contact was made. Garbage men had arrived just in time.

* * *

Spencer stood at the top of the stairs to the ballroom, giving a much expected speech about how much he appreciated all of his friends and the freeloaders showing up to give him their well wishes. A few sour looks from those seen as freeloaders went ignored by the man as he made a toast to his bride to be. The applause had been deafening as the two shared a kiss. It was all so Greek to Jill as she sat at one of the tables with William and Annette, idly playing with the olive in her drink.

"This seat taken?" A familiar voice asked.

Peering up, she blinked. "No, Captain."

The two blondes at the opposite end of the table both cringed.

Albert seemed to ignore all three of their reactions. Dropping down in the chair next to her, his gaze pitched to the couple at the top of the stairs. "Well, they look happy."

"You still have lipstick on your collar." Jill muttered, lips fixing to the rim of her martini glass. The very air around her was aflame with the bitterness found in the brunette's voice.

"So, anyone need a refill? I need a refill." William was on his feet, gone with his and Annette's glasses.

"Can we smoke in here?" Annette was fishing out her pack of cigarettes. "I think we can smoke in here, can't we?"

Miss Valentine drew her attention over her shoulder towards the crowd on the dance floor, disinterested in conversing anymore.

"Need a lighter?" Steel cylinder fished out of his pocket, Wesker rolled it across the small table to Mrs. Birkin.

Eyes wide, hand quick to snatch the object, it took everything within Annette to not yell at him after further examination. "Thank…you. I was looking for this one."

"You know me, Annette. I just forget at times to give back the things I borrow."

Lighting a cigarette with the candle displayed in the center of the table, Mrs. Birkin could only shake her head.

A few more empty glasses were on the table before William and Annette decided to retire for the evening.

Albert's randy comments that William would be found handcuffed to the bed were met with Jill popping him on the chest with her clutch. "Oww, what was that for?"

"Oh God, someone call the police!" William said theatrically. Annette popped him on the back of the head with her own clutch before standing up to bid goodbye to Jill. Both men could only look on rubbing the respective area they'd been hit while the women hugged.

"I want a hug." William pouted.

"Me too… I was kidding, Will, get off me."

"Remember what I said." Annette had uttered softly to Jill, giving her a squeeze before they departed.

* * *

Left with only one another for company, Albert and Jill watched the dance floor quietly. His arm draped over the back of her chair, digits absently brushing along the bare skin between dress and the sleeve of her glove.

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night." Jill uttered softly, shrinking away from his hand before she was on her feet. "Good night… Captain."

Brows raised, he watched her navigate through the crowd. A deep sigh and he swallowed down the last of his drink. "And then there was one."


	16. Chapter 16

 

The two story house was fairly modern, bestowed with a lovely shade of deep red on the outside with white trim. Rose bushes dotted the foundation, while lilac bushes lined the privacy fence that ran between the home and the neighbor's house to the north. It was very much her. With the exception of the kitchen and bedroom, every wall within the house was painted a sweet peach color. Many pictures of Jill's family dotted the walls, along with smiling faces of friends from her childhood and teenage years. Furniture was mostly cozy couches in the den and living room, creamy suede in the living room and leather in the den. Jill's beloved 'beater blue beetle' resided in the driveway, definitely needing a new paintjob still.

There was a benefit to being in Spencer's good graces, it seemed. Moving had been done for her while she worked. It never really crossed her mind, though it did that of others near and dear, as to why the old man had been so generous. Her mind was busy with other things.

About thirty minutes ticked past eight 'o clock before Jill had finally realized dinner was burning in the oven. Appetite lost, she looked sadly at the black lasagna in its tray. Food dumped in the trash bin, she curled up on the couch.  _'Wasted more food…'_  Jeopardy was not soothing Jill's mind either, more like infuriating with answers that didn't coincide with what she swore up and down she'd been taught in school.

The phone rang eight times before she bothered to answer it, lying over the arm of the couch with a scowl. "Valentine speaking."

"Hey, Jill. It's Chris. We have a situation that's sprung up and everyone is already spread pretty thin." A familiar voice replied on the other end. "How long until you can be at the station?"

Cord winding about her fingers, the woman's icy blue stare returned to the TV. "Alex Trebek is still flirting with me, probably would take me forty-five minutes." Her brow worried itself, confusion as to why Chris was calling instead of…well… "Where's Captain Wesker?"

A sigh given on the other end of the line and Redfield replied. "He's in a brief with Enrico. Forest and I are calling everyone who had the night off. Please get here as fast as possible." With that, the phone clicked leaving only the drone of the open line.

' _Guess their little chat didn't go so well.'_  She thought, setting the phone back on its cradle. Stretching out, a heavy sigh escaped her. The situation had made things very awkward at work. So awkward, Chris had admitted he put in a request for Bravo Team. For whatever reason, Wesker had not allowed that to happen. It was no well-kept secret the two men had gone from dislike of one another to full blown loathing, but in the past few days after their confrontation it seemed both had tossed out civility for curt behavior. Everyone was feeling it and those who hadn't taken sides certainly were at the butt end of it all.

Dressing quickly, house buttoned up, she was out the door. The blue beetle whined its contempt, much like its owner not wanting to get to work. Turning the engine over took several taps of the gas, banging fists, and enough cursing to make a sailor blush. Roaring into life, the woman cooed at her beloved heap of a car.  _'I'll get you fixed…eventually.'_

* * *

The RPD looked deserted as she pulled her car into a spot next to Forest's Ford Mustang. Half of the parking lot was empty. No officers were standing at the smoke pit joking with one another like all the times before. Locking the doors, she pulled her jacket fast against her chest as the brunette hurried. Inside, the station was a mad house.

"Speyer, Frost; get Vickers down here. I don't care if you have to drag him out of bed and kick his ass all the way down the road, just get him here." Enrico barked, tossing a ring of keys to Barry Burton before he ducked into the S.T.A.R.S. office. "Get the arms room open. We need Bravo Team to be in the air within the hour."

Forest just grinned. "Once again, Bravo takes the lead." Jean jacket dropped over his shoulders, he bumped Jill with his elbow as the two passed on his departure. "Hey Rookie, gotta go spoon with Brad. See ya in a bit! Get the camera, Joseph."

A gentle roll of her blue eyes and Jill's eyes fell on the anarchy symbol stitched to the back of his coat before she followed the others into the office. Her eyes widened as she looked at Rebecca. "What on earth…?"

Dressed in the skimpiest skirt, thigh high boots, and a top that would even cause a man to appear that his chest was spilling out; Miss Chambers was quite a sight. All bright red with fishnet stockings, her makeup was over the top as was her hair. Rebecca's gaze switched to Jill, a sly little grin adorning her lips. "You like my new uniform?"

Sliding past a couple of the guys, Valentine took a seat next to the other woman. "I… I don't know. Why are you wearing this?"

Chambers just shrugged. "Undercover work for the Hotel Butcher case, though I'm apparently not the guy's type at all. He ended up nabbing some woman off a street corner instead of taking the bait. So I spent this last evening, walking around in hooker boots, for nothing."

"Why you, though? You're a medic."

Rebecca just gave a little shrug. "Still a cop, still here for the mission of stopping bad guys like everyone else is. Plus, Chris didn't fit in the mini skirt."

The brunette man looked over his shoulder at the two women, feigning a scowl. Their laughter turned his expression into a grin. "Neither one of you could handle this. I know I look good in a pair of thigh high boots." Everyone's attention switched as the back door opened and the two captains stepped into the room.

"Alright, we finally found the son of a bitch. He's holed up in an old warehouse in the eastern party of the city. He's not alone either, lucky us." Marini said, dropping a file on a nearby desk. "Two cops are already dead, first two on the scene. Let's not add to that number tonight. Chambers, go back and talk to the girls you were working with. Find out from them where they heard this little shit was dumping the bodies he had time to. If you can get the johns to talk, do so." Vest and tactical gear slipped on, he was heading for the door while adjusting all of it. "Bravo Team, let's get in the air. Chris and Barry, you're with us tonight. Alpha is on standby. Swapping you with Forest since I sent him to get Vickers."

Redfield smirked a bit, following the others out. "Poor Brad, I'm going to miss the ass chewing heading his way."

Barry gave a laugh, stowing his revolver back into its holster as he finished reloading it. "He had that hot date tonight, I'm sure Forest and Joseph will scare the pants off them."

As soon as the door shut, Wesker peered to the remaining member of his team after everyone had cleared out. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth before he spoke. "Are you ready for this?"

Jill nodded, tugging her beret off. Tucking her hair behind an ear, the woman folded the hat before sliding it under the strap of her shoulder pad. "Yep, just glad I didn't start drinking before Chris called." Making her way to her desk, she picked up the manila folder laying there. Opening it, a grizzly photo met her eyes of the first victim. Paper clipped to the report, she flipped it up to read the typed text beneath.

**Agatha Walters**

**Age: 22**

**Height: 5'4**

**Weight: 112 lbs.**

She couldn't focus, closing the file and dropping it back on the desk. "What changed everything?"

"Had an interrogation that proved fruitful about two hours ago. A homeless man had sold a very expensive earring to one of the pawn shops. Owner of the store called it in when he saw blood on the back of it, and the DNA matched our fifth victim." Leaning against the edge of Marini's desk, the blonde stared over at her with arms folded across his chest. "Never thought something as simple as Mrs. Burton's cooking would crack the case wide open."

Jill lofted a brow, taking a seat at her desk. "Her cooking? You fed him?"

Wesker simply shrugged. "Was Barry's idea to bribe him with a meal. I could have kissed that bearded brick wall when the bum broke down and told us where he'd seen the girl. This killer takes them to a warehouse, unloads them from his trunk and does his business there now. Seems he's grown curious what a body looks like cut up."

The words sent a shiver down Valentine's spine as she swiveled in her chair to face the television up on one of the cabinets. The usual drone of the evening news greeted her eyes. "Earring fell out, and that's where you got the lead. Seems the killer finally got sloppy."

"They always do, Jill. You'll learn this the longer you work in law enforcement." Approaching her, he seated himself on the clear corner of the old mahogany desk. "Most of them want to be caught; they can't handle their work going unnoticed and forgotten."

"That's usually serial killers, isn't it?" Her blue eyes stared at his, dialing the longer she looked directly at him.

A slow nod and the blonde picked up the folder. Flipping it open, he too was greeted with the same glossy crime scene photo. His emotionless face gazed at it for a long time. "The mayor has been blowing up the phones all day, demanding more be done. Elections are soon, you know."

A sour look crossed the woman's features. "That cannot really be why he's rattling the cage so hard. People are dying."

Wesker shrugged, closing the folder. "You still have a lot to learn."

Her expression's mood didn't improve with those words, the brunette leaning back in her seat. Every inch of weight brought a creaking sound. She winced lightly as the sound filled the air. His grin caused her to finally unfurl one of her own. "I do. How's Cassandra?"

A heavy eye roll, the folder dropped in her lap and he stood.

' _She's dead, Jill. Care to join her?'_

"I don't know. How's the house?"

"It's nice."

Remote picked up, he clicked the television station over to the weather. "Surprised you don't have a new chew toy living with you already."

"Not really interested in any more chew toys. Are you leaving tomorrow?"

A small smile threatened to twitch into life on his lips. "No, the day after, I left all of the paperwork you'll need to help Enrico with in the back room. He can't type to save his life."

"I noticed."

Rolling the seat from Brad's desk near her, his attention fixated on the weather report droning on.

Jill returned to looking over the case files.

"Why do you care what I do with that bimbo?"

Her loopy handwriting ceased as she looked up. "For that reason: you clearly don't even like her."

"I think my relationships are my business." He replied.

She just shook her head. "I thought mine were as well, but you had no issue insulting my dead boyfriend."

"Touché, Valentine."

Forest, Joseph and Brad were lost in their little argument far too much to notice the captain returning to his office.

"Come on Brad, tell us. Did you at least see a nipple tonight?"

"SHUT UP FOREST!" The man in the yellow vest roared, dumping his flight bag on the nearest desk.

"Yeah Forest, shut up. A gentleman never kisses and tells."

"So does a man that ends up never getting in a girl's pants." Speyer said with a snicker, dodging Vickers' attempting to punch him in the shoulder. "Hey now, Brad. We're on standby; I can't give you a black eye." Looking over to the woman seated at the back of the office, Forest grinned wildly. "Hey Jill, we're going down to the range for a bit while we wait for word it's time to go. Wanna come with?"

Folder dropped, she nodded. "Okay."

"Too risky, Wong. I can't afford to have you trying to sleep with more than just John for information." The blonde said bluntly, fingers idly toying with the gold pen in his grasp while he spoke softly on his cell phone. The rest of the team had left, giving him a chance to work on other matters. "It's all there in the locker, and I expect the work to be done promptly and without flaw."

"You don't need to worry about me, and John doesn't suspect a thing. You will have what you need in due time. However, the progression of what you are interested is not moving so swimmingly, Wesker. John thinks they'll be delayed another six months at this rate, regardless of when the testing facility is complete. It's bothering him. Unfortunately, you should have probably stayed in the lab rather than chasing down delinquents if you were expecting results with the T-virus." The woman said with a snicker on the other end of the line.

"I'll pass…" Wesker said in his usual unemotional tone, flipping the phone shut. Fingers drug over his face, he sighed deeply.  _'More delays, more workload…'_

Everything was starting to run together.

* * *

Bullets flew as the four fired at will towards their paper targets.

"You seem tense, Jill. Loosen up a bit. Your grouping is shit when you're so rigid." Speyer said over the gunfire, discharging the clip and loose round from his handgun.

Valentine could only nod and sigh. She was tense, though not about any of this. It was too late before she realized Forest's lane was no longer hot and he was standing behind her. "Huh?" She looked up only to see his pearly grin.

"Relax, let me help you." Resting a hand on her shoulder, his other carefully adjusted her stance. "Wider. There ya go. Alright, now you really should try to feel the shot before you take it." A flat palm gesturing towards down range to her target, he continued. "Whatever you do to your target, you should be able to do it in one shot. We're taught to do this center-mast bullshit, but honestly… sometimes you need to be able to take a target down the quickest way possible. Sometimes these assholes have a hostage they're using as a shield. Gotta be able to take them down with a headshot if there is no choice."

Jill nodded, lifting her pistol up once more. Forest was so close she could feel his breath on her shoulder. Uncomfortably close, his cheek only a few centimeters from hers as he instructed her.

"Line up your sights, usually would need to compensate for wind direction when using a high powered rifle but let's just work on one thing at a time."

She nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Remember when you exhale, there's the window of where you are completely still. Feel the shot, just take your time. There is no hurry, there is no rush. You have all the time in the world."

Gaze set on the target, sights lined up, her finger went for the trigger and she fired. The sound cracked through the quiet range. Brad and Joseph had stopped to join the pair.

"Cease fire, cease fire." Joseph uttered in a bored tone. All of the protocols they had to follow for safety with their weapons sometimes felt mundane. Hitting the button nearby, her paper target was whisked towards them on the rail. Tugged from the clamp, the three men all smirked at the single shot separate from all the others.

"That's a clean headshot." Brad murmured, wiping his brow.

"Yup." Forest's eyes lifted to meet Jill's "Good job, keep working at it and you'll get used to doing this when necessary." Offering the paper target to her, he returned to his own lane to retrieve his weapon and ammunition. Safety glasses removed and hearing protection, he sighed a bit. "You learn as fast as Josh did."

Jill's brows rose. "Who's that?"

"One of the three guys killed in the really bad crash a couple years ago. Was Josh, Devan, and Caleb. You, Chris, and Joseph are their replacements. Barry, Wesker, and I all survived the crash. Bad intermediate gearbox, it just shred that driveshaft and we were too high up to do more than hang on for dear life." Brad answered, gathering up his things as well.

"Barry says he still has nightmares about it." Joseph uttered, following the others towards the exit to the range.

Forest snorted. "I think we all still have nightmares about that. Bravo Team was the first on the scene. Talking about a training exercise gone wrong." Clicking off the lights and locking up the range after everyone exited, he sighed. "Back when Irons still called the shots in a dramatic way."

"Fuck him." Brad muttered, holstering his 9mm. "Was his fault we were out there in the first place."

"Not like leadership has improved much." The long haired man retorted, holster sling resting over his shoulder as they walked through the deserted police station.

"Chris say anything about their chat?" Jill asked, eyes wandering over what was ahead in the hallway.

"Yeah… he said your  _'buddy'_  actually apologized. Claimed he didn't know squat about Monica and Chris until too late. He dumped her as soon as he found out. You know Chris well enough by now: he's still not in a forgiving mood. Monica is a bitch, but he's not going to admit to that right now."

"Captain Wesker is not my  _'buddy'_ , Forest."

Before Forest could reply, Joseph chimed in. "Not like those two have ever been pals. First day Chris was here, they almost ended up in a fist fight."

"Second day he almost ended up in a fist fight with Chief Irons. That was hilarious." Brad said with a grin, hand coming to rest on the railing as he was first to climb the stairs. "Chris: the wrecking ball."

"Man would punch a boulder if it looked at him wrong." Joseph snickered, causing the other three to laugh. "He's getting better, though. Has his anger in check."

Forest sighed a bit as they reached the second flight of stairs. "We all know, Jill." His eyes met hers.

She paused, a confused look on her face.

"You two are friends, it's cool. We don't judge you for what he does. You don't judge us for thinking he's a dick." Speyer shrugged, looking up towards the hall of the second floor.

"Nah, you don't act all big and bad or screw one of our girls. You treat everyone well and keep it in your pants." Joseph dumped off his bandana, running a palm over his short hair. He'd grown it out.

"If you decide to, please let us know so we can show up to watch. None of us would be mad." Forest was the first outside the office.

"Brad might be."

"Shut up, Frost."

* * *

Returning to the office, Wesker was sitting with his feet propped on the edge of desk that Chris and Forest shared in the front; eyes glued to the TV. Sunglasses hung from his deep blue shirt, the man didn't seem to notice the four returning.

"Any word yet, Captain?" Joseph asked, looking up to the screen.

A deep sigh and the blonde looked up to him. "Nothing pertinent, yet. Brad, get on the radio." He ordered, getting up from the chair to return to his office.

"Yes, Captain."

The door shut on the four of them, causing Forest to roll his eyes. "I hate this waiting game. We all should be there."

Brad only could shrug as he slipped the headphones on and plugged them into the radio. "Nothing new, we always do this in case we need to take another approach."

"Right, I think I'll go get a soda." Forest was gone in a matter of seconds.

Jill slipped away towards the back office. A gentle knock and she entered. "Captain?"

"Shut the door." Wesker replied, peering up at her from his hands. Once it was closed behind her, he sighed deeply. "Something wrong?"

She shook her head, picking at her nails as she stood there. "Just restless, is there anything else that needs taken care of?"

His turn to shake his head, both hands running through his slicked back hair. "Not until we're needed. I'm ready to go home. I have been here too long." Gaze dragging towards the side of his office, he frowned at the empty coffee pot. It was already approaching midnight and he was worn out. "Want to run down to the gas station and get everyone coffee? It shouldn't take you more than fifteen minutes." His request wasn't really a request at all; he was already going for his billfold.

"Alright." She said softly, taking the bills offered by him. She raised a brow as he offered his keys over to her as well.

"Fifteen minutes. Don't need you breaking down halfway there." His eyes narrowed their gaze.  _'That heap you drive is the last thing I need quitting tonight.'_

"There won't be a scratch on her." Fingers coiling around the keys, she exited his office briskly.

* * *

The gas station was like any other, if not a bit dirtier than the one Jill had worked at in Denver. Felt like a lifetime ago, now. One twenty ounce Styrofoam cup after the other filled, she clapped lids on each of them. A box of donuts retrieved from nearby, she made her way to the counter.

"Eight dollars," the cashier said, his stare fixed on the badge hanging from Jill's neck. "You're a cop?"

"Yeah…" She replied, offering over the appropriate amount of dollar bills.

"You don't look like one." Receipt printed out, he offered it to her with an olive colored hand.

"Thanks." She said with a small scowl, gathering up her purchases and heading out the door.  _'Asshole.'_

Trudging to the car parked on the side of the building, she carefully arranged everything so not to spill any of it. Returning inside with a sigh, she stopped in front of the check out. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah, go ahead. It's right in the back." The man pointed towards the far-east wall.

"Thanks."

The sound of tires coming to a screeching stop caught her attention as Jill was washing her hands. Lifting her head, she could hear the sound of yelling and gunfire shortly after the chime of the gas station's front door. Four shots fired. Her radio was still back at the station, having forgotten to grab it before leaving.  _'Oh fuck…'_

It was too late now. Gun retrieved from the holster, Valentine slowly approached the door. Cracking it barely more than a few centimeters, she frowned deeply and let the door fall closed again. She caught a glimpse of the pair inside, and the cashier. Latino men and both were armed, she had to be careful.

"Think I saw someone back there." A muffled voice uttered.

Light clicked off, Jill slipped back from the door. The element of surprise was hers.

' _A dark room can be as helpful to springing a trap, as it can be detrimental to falling for one. Make sure you're the one who is clicking the light off.'_  Familiar words from a familiar voice whispered in her head as her back came to rest against the wall hiding two stalls from the line of sight. The light clicked on.

Show time.

The man who entered was not experienced, he went straight to check the first stall he saw and noticed the woman too late.

"Drop it." She commanded. He obeyed, hands held where she could see them. Jill was quick to kick the pistol away towards the sinks near the entrance to the bathroom. The two stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. "You know this drill, down on the ground." He obeyed again, hatred filling his dark brown eyes. Cuffs retrieved from her belt, she cuffed him to the handicap handle of the stall. "Wait here for me."

' _Like he really has a choice.'_  Retrieving the dropped pistol, she discharged the single round and the clip. Another gunshot heard and she was quick to exit the bathroom.

"Arvada, we gotta get out of here. Was there anyone back there?" The bald Latino man asked, not bothering to look behind him as he cleared the register of the bills carefully tucked in each slot.

"Yeah, there was." Jill was hardly surprised to see the man whip around with his pistol drawn. Heart pounding, she tried her best to remain calm. For some reason, she felt her fear was written all over her face.

The man did a once over, his gaze settling on her badge. "Just my fucking luck a cop would be taking a shit when we decided to rob the place."

She scowled. "Drop the gun, or I will be forced to shoot you."

"Fuck you, pig!" He pulled the trigger, only to have the pistol jam.

How she'd wish years later that she hadn't felt the shot, and had just screamed at him to get down on the ground. They were milliseconds apart, and there was nothing Jill could have done differently. That jam had saved her life, but cost him his as he went to discharge the bullet in order to fire again. The sound of her shot was deafening.

He dropped like a sack of bricks before her, blood pooling around the lifeless body only moments after. Eyes turning towards behind the counter, she saw the blood spray and long streaks of where gore was dribbling down the rows of cigarettes. She could barely make out some of the brands. Quickly behind the counter, the cashier had already given up the ghost.

' _The last thing I thought of this man was how he was an asshole…'_

She stood there for a moment, just stunned. The world seemed to slow down, and become nothing but a movie she was watching from the back row of an empty theater. Collecting herself enough to make the call, Jill never knew how she hadn't just lost it when talking to dispatch.

Or when the patrol cars pulled up about ten minutes later.

Or when her captain approached her about an hour after that while she sat in the passenger seat of one patrol car, giving her statement to a dark skinned female officer.

Forest climbed out of the driver's seat of his car, laughing a bit. "You send her to get coffee; she ends up in a gun fight. As if we didn't have enough on our plates." Crouching next to woman, he rested a hand on her shoulder. "You okay, Jill?"

She shook her head. "I didn't save the guy running the register. I was too busy detaining one of them."

"Hey, it happens, unfortunately. At least you're okay." He offered, giving her shoulder a squeeze. His hand felt very warm.

"I thought you guys were on standby still."

"Nah, they got him. Chris about beat the dude into a puddle before Barry and Ed got him off the guy. Girl was alive still, so one victory for us." Releasing his grip, the dark haired man stood. "Right after we got that message, we got the dispatch you'd been in a shoot-out. Did you take the last of the coffee or something?"

"Something like that…"

"Speyer, take the material out of my car and get back to the RPD. I'll stick around and see what else is needed from Valentine before she can go." Wesker said, slipping off towards the gas station. Already the crime lab was snapping photos inside.

"You got it, Cap'n." Clapping Jill's shoulder, Forest strolled off.

Left with her own thoughts, she was a whirlwind inside once more. She hadn't noticed Wesker returning until the man rested a hand on her back.

"I'm sending you home after this."

"I killed a man." She uttered miserably.

"He left you no choice. He'd have killed you." The hand swept up and away from her body.

The thought crossed her mind to reach out for him, but that was quickly beaten into submission.

"You did this city proud, Jill."

"I wasn't fast enough and a man died."

Checking his watch, the captain sighed. "You still did Slade proud…and the poor girl that was with him, for whatever that is worth to you." Stare clicking up, he nodded towards the other patrol car. "You arrested Jose Arvada's son without so much as a struggle. The man that murdered Slade…arrested by the woman that shared his bed."

Valentine's eyes followed Wesker's stare, settling on the other car. The man in the back seat was glaring right at her.

A stone dropped to the bottom of her gut.

The blonde nodded as another officer approached. "Need anything else from her, Jason?"

The red headed officer shook his head, removing his hat. "No, just shake her hand." He extended a palm towards the woman, giving hers a ginger shake before releasing it. "Kevin was my partner." His voice cracked as he put his cover back on. "He talked about you a lot."

Jill could only nod, a glum expression devouring her face. "I think about him a lot, too."

Something inside Wesker hated that she did.

* * *

On the road within a matter of minutes, quiet filled the cabin of the car.

"I was actually worried when Joseph got the call and you hadn't come back." His voice broke the silence, graveled from disuse. Clearing his throat, he peered over to her. "I'm glad you're safe."

Jill had no reply, her gaze out the window. Tears running down her cheeks, she sighed deeply. Once again, she was picking at her nails.

Only his surgeon's fingers managed to quell her foible as they wrapped around one of her palms.

* * *

Chris knocked twice, opening the door to the back office. Redfield turned back to everyone. "Anyone see where the captain went?"

"He filled out some paperwork and left a while ago." Barry replied, zipping up his jacket. "Like we all should have done by now." Grinning, the bearded man began collecting up his things.

* * *

Door swinging open to the female locker room, Wesker stepped inside silently. Locking the door behind him, he peered through the dank darkness towards the light of the showers beyond the lockers. The sound of water raining down filled the air until it drowned out all other sound. Approaching the tiled room, he paused at the entryway.

Clothing soaked and strewn on the floor all around, Jill sat huddled under one of the shower, sobbing quietly. Strands of brunette clung to her face as she looked up to him. Cold water drenching over, her expression was torn to pieces.

' _And it is genuinely killing you to watch this…'_

There was no need for words as he relieved himself of his belt and left it to hang on a hook. His vest was just dropped right there, earpiece and all left with it. A crunching sound and he looked down to see the splinters of black lenses beneath his tread. Another wrecked pair of sunglasses that fell from where they hung, but who cared now?

Stepping in, he sat down next to her, back to the wall as well. The blonde didn't seem to notice the chilled water that caused his dark blue button down shirt to cling to him. Within seconds, he was soaked as well, t-shirt transparent along his neck. After what felt like forever, he finally drug an arm around her and pulled her to him. Shared warmth only caused her to cry harder.

He would let her be weak now, bleed out her heart all over him and let the cold carry it down the drain. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow, she would have to be brave all over again, or find a way to pretend she was.


	17. Chapter 17

The visitor's room was hardly one Jill thought she'd have grown accustomed to sitting in. Yet, she sat there that idle Tuesday. Dressed in her usual gray uniform, her beret laid folded neatly next to her. An absent foible, she brushed a few brunette strands behind her right ear. The drone of the door on the opposite wall where she sat alerted that it was unlocked. A click of the handle and there he was. She could feel her hands shaking in her lap as a graying man in an orange jumpsuit sat down across from her. She recognized the guard, nodding in turn as he smiled and waved before leaving the pair alone.

Warmth spilled onto his features as Dick let out a sigh of relief. "And here's Jilly; come to see her old man out of the blue." Cuffed hands resting on the table between them, his palms open and lay flat on the table. He laughed a little as her brow worried itself atop her forehead. "I'm happy to see you regardless."

Hands lifted and slid across to allow her father to take hold, Jill couldn't keep the frown from her face. "Are you alright, Dad?" She scrutinized his appearance with a hawk's eye. He'd lost weight, seemed so pale in so much orange.

"Oh, I'm fine. Pretty quiet around here, considering where I was at, you know." Thumbs brushing over her knuckles, Dick kept his stare on his daughter's face. "Something on your mind, kiddo? Your mother used to get that look."

' _Can't hide anything from him, he has a key for it all.'_  She nodded slowly to him. "I've had better months." Stare dropped to the table, she could feel the heat riding along her eyes. She'd fight those wells of tears as long as possible. "Dad, I…I killed a man yesterday." Shame and anger bared their fangs on her features as she peered up at him.

Dick's aged face, branded in horror, stared at his daughter for the longest time. "My God, Jill…"

Fingers drawn back, she wiped at her eyes. "I…uh… I went to get coffee and…um…" Palms on the table between them, her nails drummed as she thought. "He tried to shoot me." Sorrow drowned out everything else on her face as she drove her gaze towards the barred window on the east wall. "I arrested the other one in there… Turned out to be Arvada's son."

The aged Valentine's eyes widened at that. "Well now… that's great news!" His wrinkled features broke out into a smile, hands stretched forward to clasp hers once more. "Excellent work, Jilly-bean! I knew you would do great things here!" A father's pride, but it wouldn't be enough to rid her of the demons that tore at her heart.

"Dad, I didn't save the man that was working there. He was shot several times and died before help came." One hand drawn up under her nose, she tried not to let that damn sniffle get loose. "I fucked up." Voice cracking, she inhaled sharply.

"No, no, no! Now, you listen to me, girl." Once her eyes met the gray pair of her father's he continued. "That doesn't sound like you at all. What could you have done differently?"

"I don't know." She sputtered out, wiping her eyes again. "I could have charged out of the bathroom… Maybe I could have saved him."

"You said there were two, honey. You could have been killed." She still looked doubtful across the table that may as well have been a million miles across between them. Leaning forward, his arms supported his weight. "Now, you listen to this old fox and listen well." Once he was satisfied that he had her full attention, his voice took on a comforting tone as he spoke. "Nobody is perfect, Jilly. Nobody in this world can get it right every time. You abided by the regulations, didn't you? Gave them both a chance to give up and turn themselves in before you acted, right?"

She nodded several times, trying to keep the tears from escaping.

"Then you did the best you could with what you had. You can't win every time, Jill. There will be bad days and there will be good days. Remember when your mom got cancer? She had good days and bad days… Some days she was winning and others she was losing…"

"Then she died…" Jill replied miserably, spinning her folded beret with a swift palm against one of the wool edges.

"But she went down fightin'!" He retorted harshly. "Your mother is still the strongest person I've ever known, girl. Her blood is in your veins and the blood never forgets." Sitting back, he sighs. "She's always gonna be with you, Jill. No matter where you go in life, she'll be there. Whether you do good or bad, she'll always be watching…ready to lend you her love and strength. You were her light in the dark world she embraced when she married me." Calming a bit, he peered down at the table as well, matching the woman's downcast gaze. "Would your mom have been ashamed of what you did?"

Pausing for a minute, two tears splattered on the table between them _. 'Would she have? It's been so long I can barely remember her voice or face…'_  Finally, she shook her head, digits coming to rest against her mouth in a brief gesture. "No, she'd have told me the 'bastards got what was coming to them'."  _'Mom always had a way with words…'_

Dick's approving nod was his initial reply. "Damn right she would have. You don't know how many times that woman bailed me out of jail and the worst I got was slapped all the way to the car." He chuckled, and seeing her laugh eased the tension. "No, what you did…she'd forgive you if you needed it. Now…" Shaking his head a bit, he peered to her. "You just need to forgive yourself."

Chewing on the edge of her nail, Jill sat in silence for a while. Dick always knew how to make her think hard, even when locks were not involved. "I miss you, Dad."

The corners of his eyes bared their crow's feet. "I'm right here, Jill. Just a little drive away, now, I'm never going to be so far away you can't reach me."

Taking her mind off the previous day's events was fairly easy. A couple stories from when he was her age, and the younger Valentine was feeling less like a raincloud.

* * *

"What a fucking mess…" Brian Irons muttered behind his desk, his stare fixed on the two captains seated across from him. "For once, I can't blame either of you or your teams for it." Cigar retrieved from the tray, he hardly noticed the cringe on Enrico's face as he lit it up via a silver Zippo lighter.

"Bleh…" Marini was quick to recover. "Eh, Chief, we managed to get a confession from Chandler before he was sent into solitary confinement. He's agreed to show forensics where he dumped the rest of the bodies that we had no idea about in exchange for us documenting his story. I think he's expecting the chair for this."

"How many?" The large man asked, smoke rolling from his lips, eyes narrowed under scruffy brows.

"Seven, over the course of the past five years," with thumbs twiddling, Enrico kept his stare on the police chief. "All young women, some of them never reported as missing according to our suspect."

"Well, glad to see instead of doing our jobs, we've been stuffing ourselves with coffee and donuts. The only exception being your newest member making an arrest instead of feeding her face," ashes flicked into the tray, he turned his stare to Wesker. "What an arrest to make at a gas station at three in the fucking morning, hmm? The mayor is pretty happy with how things turned out." Cigar fixed between his lips, the large man leaned back in his chair. "Has she seen the psychiatrist yet?"

Wesker shook his head slowly, exhausted eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. For once they were useful; the fat man had the blinds open. "Not yet, she requested to see her father at the jailhouse early this morning. She still has 48 hours to get checked out. I didn't see any reason to rush her after she turned in her gun and badge."

Brian nodded. "It could backfire, but that's the DA's trouble."

Enrico's brows shot skyward. "Wait, there's a chance this slime bag could walk for this? He killed a cop!"

The police chief shrugged absently, swiveling a bit in his chair. "It's possible but I have a feeling this police department won't let him go anywhere. Jaywalking, crippled parking, or anything else and he'd be in cuffs all over again. Hoping the DA is smart enough to recommend no bail." Cigar dumped in the tray, he leans forward. "Now, there is the matter of Officer Redfield's behavior during this last arrest that has me considering termination."

To that, both captains gave a deep sigh.

Captain Marini to the rescue on this one, knowing full well the other captain had no love for the man. "He's good at what he does, just needs to get his head out of his ass. Usually his head is screwed on straight, though that doesn't excuse his actions." Hands folded, he cleared his throat. "I would partner him with someone like Rebecca, but… someone won't give him up to me." Eyes over to Wesker, he smirked.

"Right, Enrico, but then you'd give me Forest in exchange and then I'd be running a preschool instead of a highly trained police force. Wouldn't be Alpha Team anymore, it'd be the short bus."

"Oh, come on. Your rookie could keep him in line if you put her in charge of him. She seems to have a knack for peacekeeping."

Irons chuckled a bit. "If she's so good, partner her with Redfield. We'll see how well she keeps the peace."

Wesker would have looked as though Brian had just slapped him if he didn't have a decent poker face on most of the time. "That's not necessary. I'll send Chris to anger management."

The police chief cut him off after that. "No, I'm ordering you to partner those two up. We need officers available for duty, not talking about their feelings to some quack. Understand?"

' _Prick. Now apparently I can't run my own team without you holding my goddamn hand?'_  The blonde merely nodded, pushing his sunglasses a touch higher on the bridge of his nose. "Of course."

The rest of the brief, Albert really didn't pay attention to.

In the hallway, he seemed so far off in his own little world it took Enrico tapping him on the arm to get him back to Earth.

"I know why you don't want them partnered up." Marini uttered softly, arms folded across his chest.

' _Oh really? Does it involve the fact that I want Christopher homeless?'_  He absently knocked nonexistent dirt from his boot by tapping the toe against the wood flooring beneath his feet. "Oh?" Wesker did try to sound curious. It fell a bit flat as his hands dug into the pockets of his cargo pants.

"I know she's your newest member, and I didn't mean to step on toes. However, I really don't think Chris would ever put her in harm's way with his antics. He'll probably be more aware of what he's doing if there's a female present. Would be good for the whole team if he just kept his head clear, you know?" Fingers scratching absently along his chin, the shorter man fell silent.

A deep sigh and the taller captain nodded. "Probably wouldn't hurt to try. I've already had to replace enough members of my team as is." He shrugged lightly, playing it all off as a minor inconvenience. "We'll give it a whirl; see if it improves his behavior." As Marini turned and strode ahead of him, Albert's expression fell from deadpan to pissed as he turned about and headed for the men's room.

* * *

"Oh this is some bullshit!" Forest shouted, dumping his gear on the desk as Chris was packing up. Wesker's announcement had happened just as Speyer had walked in. The blonde captain was already back in his office, door shut and blinds drawn. The short haired brunette snickering didn't help. "You must have made him feel guilty as shit with your big 'ol sad eyes when you two had your heart to heart." Speyer proceeded to do his best impression of his best pal. "Cap'n… Y-You slept with my girlfriend and t-that's not nice. Throw me a bone, man. You wrecked my street credit. I don't know what that means; I grew up on a farm." The two shared a laugh and a couple jabs.

"You can't be jealous, Forest. You've been seeing that one girl who Joan kept telling you was really a man." Zipping his pack up, Redfield slung it over his shoulder. Eyes on the clock, he was finally leaving on time for once.

"Oh, I am green with jealous rage. The rumor was that I was supposed to replace you on Alpha Team." Holster assembly slipped over his shoulders, the dark haired officer sat on the edge of the desk with a smirk. "Also that you were going to be given the option of finally going to Bravo Team."

"Yeah well, that's what you get for listening to the rumor mill. It's alright; you still get to play third wheel to Rebecca and Ed." Folders picked up and dropped in the other man's lap, Chris dumped a couple papers in the waste bin.

Forest gave him the finger. "I am a great third wheel. I hold her books while they make out behind the bleachers during third period."

Redfield could only shake his head again as he stepped around the desk and headed for the door. "Don't worry, Forest. She's all yours to…get shot down by. I'm already under too many red flags to add fraternizing to my file. Make sure to creep her out by having your children's names all picked out." Another finger shot at him and Chris snorted. "I know I'm number one, you don't need to remind me." Tapping the frame of the door, he slipped out. "Have fun!"

"Oh, I will! Gonna pick out an electric trimmer for my lady's five 'o clock shadow." File flipped open, Forest let out a deep sigh.

* * *

"If this is your idea to fix tensions, why do you look like you just bit into a really sour lemon?" Jill asked, eyes trailing their stare up from Albert's hands wrapped around her foot to his face. "Easy now, don't crush it." She winced, recoiling to little avail. The man had an iron grip.

"Hmm? Oh…Sorry, dear heart. It wasn't my idea, actually." His thumbs rotated deeply into the tender skin of her foot. The conversation had started with Jill bursting into laughter, though it was short lived when he began to show how irritated he was.

"Irons?" The nod he gave caused her to sigh. "Sounds like a disaster in the making. Chris is hot headed and I'm trigger happy. May as well give us a box of grenades and see what happens."

"Someone called you trigger happy?" His blue eyes switched their stare from the television to her face, a note in his voice dark as night.

Jill quelled those thoughts with a shake of her head, nails dragging her hair back. "No, it's just… I've felt like I should have done something differently. I don't know how I could have; they both stood armed and were shooting before I even had an encounter with them." Lounged back, her eyes slid shut. "I don't know what to think anymore…"

"You know what I think?" He tugged absently at one of her toes, causing her to squeal and try to jerk away. The happy sound and her laughter caused a passive grin to form on his face. "I think you're being critical of yourself, which will make you a fantastic officer for years to come. Never hurts to keep yourself in check. However, it also means that you need to go see the psychiatrist like I told you to." One brow lifting over the other, she recognized that look well. It wasn't patronizing, but certainly was cut from the same cloth.

Cornflower hued eyes peering at him, she frowned. "Tomorrow, I will." Her gaze narrowed as his fingers slid over the second toe of her foot. A bit of nervous laughter, her entire body squirmed as his digits circled like a bird of prey. "I promise, please don't- Goddammit!" She finally managed to jerk free at last. "Please stop, I'm already a wreck without you pulling on my toes."

As close as they were he could inhale the scent of her perfume. Sweet, almost like cotton candy though so faint he couldn't be sure if he was imagining it. "Speaking of wrecks… that wedding is coming up soon."

"I can't wait to go out to that estate Spencer has tucked in the mountains. I bet he keeps that amazing car collection out there. Dad said they used to go for drives together before I was born. Always told me that every house Mr. Spencer owns is filled to the ceiling with priceless paintings and artifacts from every corner of the globe. Wish I could live there." Reminiscing, her fingers gliding through her cropped strands and only stopped when she heard a distinct snort from her companion. "What? Don't make fun of me!"

' _Christ, Jill…'_  He only could shake his head. "They're not having it out there. Place was officially condemned the other day when the groundskeeper unlocked the front doors for the wedding planners. Place has been shut up for years… I guess when you're old, you forget that closing the doors on a place in the '70s and leaving it there to sit without maintaining it, could render a building worthless."

Her disappointment was visible.

"I'm sorry; I didn't realize you were looking forward to it so much."

' _I'm not sorry. Thank fucking God. I may just go to church this weekend and throw my entire paycheck in the collection bowl.'_

She scowled for the longest time, unable to smear the frustration from her features. "It's alright, nothing you can do about a building falling in on itself. That's a shame."

"That car collection you're talking about… It's at his estate in New York. I'm sure you'll get the chance to see them, though I'd leave the beetle at home."

"I'll have you know that old man thinks my beetle is just fine." Nose shot in the air, she picked up the magazine she'd left on the coffee table.

"He probably forgot to put on his glasses." A jab to the ribs and he laughed. "Cataracts are rough."

"Stop making fun of my June Bug!"

"You named your car 'June Bug'? Does it run into everyone on the highway blindly? Certainly sounds like one sputtering when you pull out of the parking lot. Ow!" Another jab, though this time to the muscle between shoulder and collarbone.

"As opposed to what? Your car? Please, your car screams 'I slept with an old lady for her money so I could buy myself a nice car—'." His fingers tickling along her sides caused the woman to cackle more so than before. " _Stappit!_ I'm gonna cry!" She squeaked, a flurry of wriggles beneath him.

"Take it back." He commanded softly, pausing only to give her the chance to speak.

"Okay…" She replied, breathless as ever, shivering with anticipation that he might start all over. "Okay, you did sleep with an old lady—Oh God, stop it! You win! You win! I take it back!" As he climbed off the couch, unzipping his vest, Jill sighed heavily. "Never play fair… So where are they having it now?"

Seating himself on the other end of the couch, Albert yawned while unbuttoning his dark blue shirt. "At the remodeled historic train station on the north side of town near all of those expensive outlets that make up Black Creek, and I already booked two rooms within walking distance." Tearing off the blue shirt, he let it drop on the coffee table before working on his boots.

"Have a hot date?" She asked jokingly, flipping through the magazine.

His stare fixed on untying his last boot, tugging it off. "I do, actually." Sounding so casual, it was only when her arms slid from the couch that Wesker twitched his stare towards her. "What?"

"Nothing." Magazine tossed in her purse, she fished out her keys. "I should get going."

Leaned back against the couch, Albert sighed deeply. "Is this about Cassandra?" As she made to leave, tired muscles finally lifted him back onto his feet.

She was gone before he could reach the door. The headlights of her car already illuminated.

' _If only you knew.'_

* * *

Two days later, Jill found herself on the couch of the RPD's favored psychiatrist, Catherine Mercer.

"Before we begin, Miss Valentine, I have to ask this question: Do you wish to harm yourself or anyone else?"

Hair brushed behind her ear, she shook her head. "No, nobody at all."

Catherine nodded, her red glossed lips breaking into a smile as she took notes. "That's good. Any drug use?"

"None." Jill's stare was on the floor, tracing the pattern of diamond shapes bordered in a different color of brown than their interiors.

"Good. Any history of mental illness in your family?"

"None." The nails of her thumbs clicked over one another.

"Okay, any history of depression?"

Jill shook her head once more, meeting the gaze of the other woman. "None, but I have been feeling depressed lately."

The black haired woman nodded behind her tortoise shell glasses. "Okay, why are you feeling depressed?"

Lounging back, Valentine let out a sigh. "I shot a man robbing a gas station after he killed the clerk and tried to shoot me too."

The psychiatrist flipped through the file she had in hand. "You're with S.T.A.R.S.?" The nod she received was enough of an answer. "How many hours a week do you work?"

"Anywhere from forty to sixty hours, sometimes more if needed."

"Do you enjoy what you do?"

The brunette nodded slowly. "Everything but the feeling in my gut right now."

More notes jotted down. "Would you say that you feel a great deal of stress at work?"

"Sometimes, though I expected there to be stress when I began working."

"How stressed do you feel after work? When you go home, do you find ways to cope with the day?" Adjusting her glasses, the woman let off a small yawn.

"More stressed when not at work. I haven't been here very long and I don't have many friends that aren't just as busy as I am if not more busy."

Nodding, the psychiatrist sat back in her chair. "Tell me about the shooting. What bothers you most about it?"

Cornflower eyes turned to the woman in the chair, Jill frowned deeply. "I didn't save the clerk."

That caused brows to rise. "Could you have saved him?"

To that, the brunette didn't have a good answer. "I really don't know if I could have. There were two men, both armed. I arrested one and the other… he wrote his own death warrant."

"So you did your best in the safest manner possible?"

Jill nodded, still picking at her nails. "I just really want to know if this feeling ever goes away… Is that terribly selfish of me to ask?"

"That's not a terrible question to ask. In my experience, officers all find ways to cope with the memories of what they feel are failures. Society can give them praise, a raise, a medal, and they'd still feel that they could have upheld the law better. It's something you have to figure out yourself… I'd suggest talking to some of the more veteran officers on your team about these feelings if you are able. If anyone could possibly grasp what you've been through, Officer Valentine, it's going to be them. I cannot even fathom what you feel, and I'm truly sorry that I can't. Find a hobby, if nothing else. Might help with the recovery process." A few more notes made, she pulled a business card out from under her clipboard. "Should you decide to do a follow up with a therapist, this is my husband's card. He frequently works with the RPD if you need it."

Taking the card, Jill nodded. "Thank you. I'll give him a call."

The psychiatrist smiled broadly. "You're going to be fine, otherwise. I'll sign you off as fit for duty and give my evaluation to your police chief." Opening the door, she offered a wave as the brunette left her office.

* * *

"I told you one day that having you as a friend was going to pay off." Annette grinned behind her steaming cup of coffee, watching Jill break into her car for her. Outside of the hospital was deserted other than vacant vehicles and the two women.

"I'll only charge you a cup of coffee next time we go to that café downtown." Locks popping up for both doors inside, Jill retrieved her pick.

"You have a deal, girl." Reaching in, Annette retrieved her pack of cigarettes. "I'm supposed to be back inside helping William, but he locked me out of the car. Missed my one damn break before noon." Lighting up, Mrs. Birkin took a long drag. "Five hours to go and I am soaking in the tub until I am so pruned I can scare my husband."

Jill laughed a bit, taking a cigarette offered to Annette's surprise. "Thank you." Lighting it with the lighter offered, she sighed deeply. Smoke rolling free of her lips, she peered at Annette. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," leaned back against the station wagon, Annette's long legs crossed. "What's on your mind?"

"Him."

Annette made a face. "He stopped by last night before he left for the week." A curious tone laced her words as the blonde peered over. "So, what happened now?"

"When we're alone at times, he crosses the threshold of interest. Then he retracts and shuts me out in the cold. I finally got tired of it."

Birkin lifted a brow at that. "That's Albert for you." Flicking a bit of ash, she rolled her blue eyes. "You both give me a headache."

Jill reciprocated the motion, shrugging mildly. "Sorry…I don't know why but when he told me that he wasn't going to be with me, I almost had an anxiety attack. Now I'm worried about his safety. He's as much of a target as Dad and I are."

"I'd only be concerned if he wasn't a black belt in beating someone's ass. Aside from that, he's already their personal 'Where's Waldo'. Don't let it get the best of you, he'll be fine. You need to worry about you. Anxiety can be dangerous in your line of work. To me it's boiled down to an ultimatum." Blowing a small smoke ring, Annette raised a hand to wave to William approaching. "Hello, husband."

"Morning ladies." Stealing a cigarette from his wife, the scrawny scientist threw a nod to Jill. "Loitering around the hospital now? That's pretty hip of you. We get kind of crazy around here about eleven or so. Free Xanax for everyone!"

Annette sighed. "No, you locked the keys in the car again. I caught her before she left home for work, William." A pointed look was won over by one of his cheesy smiles. "Now I know why your other wife was bristling when he stopped by."

William frowned, shaking his head. "Yeah, he wasn't in the greatest of moods." Lighting the cigarette, Mr. Birkin shrugged. "My advice? Don't shit where you eat… or…eat where you shit. Also, pine for someone who is emotionally available enough to be seen in broad daylight holding your hand." A long drag taken and the scientist sighed. He saw the look on her face and offered a gesture of apology. "It's not your fault. That's just how he is. You're scary because you have genuine feelings."

"They seem to be dominating my life. An ultimatum may be overdue." Jill admitted miserably. "I feel like a wreck and I need to focus on work."

"Poor thing," Annette uttered softly, watching a pair of birds land on a nearby power line. "You're not getting out of going to the wedding. We'll be there. You should take someone along with you as a date."

A moment of silence passed between the three, and William suddenly laughed. "Heh, I know who I'd take."

Jill raised a brow. "Who?"

* * *

Chris peered up from his lunch, nodding. "Hey Jill, where you been?"

"One of my friends that works at the hospital locked her keys in her car. Locksmith charges an arm and a leg and she doesn't have either to pay with." Dumping a stack of files and her beret on the desk, she sighed.

"That stinks. Good thing she has you." A broad grin and he raised a brow as she sat down across from him. Poking at his pork chop, the brunette man took in her expression. "You alright?"

"Yeah…No. This is going to sound pathetic." Leaning forward, she rested her hands on the desk between them. "I'm supposed to go to the wedding that Barry and his wife are going to, and the person I was originally going with now has a date."

"Oh?" Taking a bite, he began poking around at his lunch a bit more. "Need a date, too?" His eyes met hers and that usual Chris Redfield smile appeared.

Jill's eyes widened briefly. "I… Yeah…" Face covered with a palm, she groaned. "God, I'm a sad case."

Chris just shook his head. "Nah, you just need you need a wingman. Lucky for you, I was a pretty good one in the Air Force. If the jerk is there, I'm sure we can get his car towed or something to teach him a lesson. I'll ask Captain Marini for the time off." He tossed something at her.

Catching it, Jill raised a brow. "Fruit roll-up? Aren't you a little old for these?"

Redfield just shook his head. "Nah, you're never too old for one of those. It's yours, partner." A wink and he busied himself with finishing up his meal.

For the first time in a few days, she had a good reason to smile.


	18. Chapter 18

 

The outside of Memorial Hospital was nothing but the strobe of squad car lights and forensic cameras flashing as Jill and Chris stepped out of the road and up on the cement pathway. Both ducked under crime scene tape, walking to the double doors being guarded by two men in uniform. Badges flashed, the pair was allowed inside.

Flipping open his notepad, Chris cleared his throat, citing from his chicken scratch notes as they walked through the hallway. "So around six this evening, the entire hospital suddenly lost power, even the back-up generators failed. None of the staff noticed anything out of the ordinary; we're currently looking through all of the security footage for any suspicious activity. With that being said, we have twenty who were completely on life support dead, and about a dozen in critical condition," pausing, he peered up to his partner who had her back turned to him. "They're thinking none of them will make it either."

Pondering, Jill's blue eyes lifted their stare to the stale wallpaper lining the wall. "We're supposed to think it's just a power outage, but it's definitely murder. What is the purpose of killing thirty some people who are all depending on machines to live?"

Chris closed the notepad, stepping up to stand shoulder to shoulder with the shorter woman. His dark eyes veered down to her. "You're the gangster's kid. Why would anyone want thirty people silenced?"

Jill's stare flicked up to him. "One of them knows or knew something important and we're not supposed to figure out which one it was."

A grin formed on Chris' rugged face. "Now you're getting it. It takes some time to build your mental toolbox to see what's hidden in these situations. Every cop has one." As the pair continued on down the hallway, passed by staff and other officers, Chris finally spoke up. "You still hanging in there from the other day?"

"Barely." Jill admitted, doe eyes narrowed in their gaze. "I have an appointment for therapy next week before the wedding. The psychiatrist thinks I need a hobby to take my mind off everything."

Redfield nodded. "Dad's in jail, one boyfriend dead, just killed a criminal for the first time… Your plate is officially full, Jill."

"Homicide is working this case, why do you think Captain Marini sent us down here?" Jill asked as her companion opened the door for her and they passed through.

"It was Detective Mendez that requested you, and I'm just tagging along. She said there was something you might have some insight on." At the end of the hall they made a left and took the stairs down to the basement of the two story facility. The basement was dank and dark, passageway endowed with piping along the left side as well as the ceiling. Making a right at the end of the passage, the pair arrived at their destination.

Detective Alexa Mendez greeted the pair with a small wave, her trench coat hanging from her very slender form. "Evening, Officer Valentine." A nod and she smiled at Chris. "Redfield, always a pleasure to see you. If you'll follow me, I think you might find what we discovered to be very interesting." Turning on a dime, she led them further into the basement. At the gated door leading to the generator system, the detective greeted a member of her team. "I need that thing you found jammed in the lock." The olive skinned man offered an evidence bag over, and from there Alexa handed it to Jill. "You recognize what this is?"

It only took Jill giving the object a once over in the bag for her to recognize it. "It's a lock pick. Looks like Southord's style."

"What's 'Southord'?" The detective asked, dark eyes peering up to the other woman.

"It's a company that specializes in sets for European and Japanese styled locks. Really great for narrow locks like the one in the door, but they require a steady and careful hand." Examining the pick closer, Jill's brows lifted. "Which your suspect didn't have, this pick is broken. They must have used tension wire to accompany the broken piece to break in." Offering it back, Jill peered into the darkness of the generator room beyond. "Whoever did this was a professional. A set of those picks could feed a family for a month if you buy them new. Nobody just buys Southord on a whim, even a dealer would try to convince them to get a sturdier set."

Detective Mendez nodded. "Thank you, Officer Valentine. Your insight has been very helpful." A smile and she took the bag.

"Did you find anything else besides the pick, Alexa?" Chris asked, hovering close to the caged exterior of the generator room.

"Actually…" She beaconed the pair to follow, passing the investigator dusting the door for prints. "We found this…" Clicking on her penlight, the detective drifted its rays over the back wall.

A blood red symbol greeted them from its hiding place, a simple design of a palm with an eye drawn in the center.

"Wasn't expecting that…" Chris muttered softly, stopping short. "Seen this before on the south side of the city when that cult 'Dawn of Heaven' burned down Umbrella's storage building for incoming products from the plant."

Alexa nodded. "It's a safe guess they have something to do with why the hospital lost power."

The brunette man gave a deep sigh, hands jammed into the pockets of his cargo pants. "Yeah if it's authentic, safe bet that S.T.A.R.S. will be dispatched to their old compound. Seems they didn't get the message the first time."

Jill could only look on with a frown.  _'Something about how that eye is drawn is familiar.'_  As they were leaving the hospital, it continued to bug her. The body bags being loaded also gave her room for pause.

"They're going to move all of the people in critical condition to the Raccoon General Hospital first. Hopefully one of them will live and may have information about just what happened here. Alexa is a good cop; I hope she catches this goon." Chris uttered, leading the way back to his car. Old red thunderbird, and somehow it reminded the woman of Christopher to the letter.

"I hope she does too…" Jill said distantly, buckling in.

* * *

**Bogotá, Colombia**

HUNK peered out over the sprawling street from his vantage point on a shoddy rooftop. Gas-mask and helmet missing, he wiped his sweating brow. He'd forgotten how hot it was in Bogotá, and how much he hated the food in the region. Squinting, he watched the inhabitants of the city's edge go about their lives. Children playing football in a dusty lot, people were enjoying a peaceful afternoon under the shade of trees, and an older woman hanging laundry on a clothing line.

He didn't filter anything out from the scene before him.

Not even one inch.

It was just the calm before all Hell broke loose.

' _No matter, we'll be done soon. Once the corpses are in the ground they'll go back to their normal lives.'_

The sight of a convoy of sleek black cars caught his gaze. Calmly, he uttered softly into his radio. "Look alive, wolves. The pay day is here." Slipping out of sight, he stole a glance to his watch. "I hope you're not sleeping up in the bell tower, doctor."

Albert let off a sigh from behind the scope of his rifle. He was almost invisible to the town below, fatigues as pale as the limestone that made up where he laid in the prone. Radio lifted, he replied. "Wide awake, ready to work."

"Good, would hate for you to go home empty handed. We'll begin when you're ready." A pause as the seasoned mercenary got into position himself, magazine fed into his assault rifle. "Remember your orders, wolves. We'll rendezvous at the entrance of the Madre Cantina."

Several mercenaries, donned in black with riot gear, loitered about the canopy of the town. Rooftops gave them the advantage. Umbrella's finest always enjoyed having the upper hand.

The cars came to a sudden stop. Doors open, the occupants all began to sift out.

HUNK lifted his stare toward the tower. "Waiting for visual."

Wesker's gaze narrowed, shifting the rifle toward the third car. Carefully, he adjusted the sight on his scope. The blond recognized none of them, though one had his head turned away. "Stand by." He had to be certain…

' _Come out, come out…'_

The man turned his head, aviator sunglasses hardly a mask for a face that Albert knew well enough.

"Sighted?" The silver haired mercenary was growing impatient, and his voice was showing it.

There was no reply, a barely audible crack hitting the air. Suddenly, the man who had become such a thorn in Umbrella's side dropped to the dirt. Tranquilizing dart embedded in his neck, it was lights out for Arvada.

"Pay day is down." Cap adjusted and sunglasses donned, Wesker carefully slid back out of sight. Climbing to his feet with rifle in tow, he let his back come to rest against the stone wall behind him. A deep sigh escaped him, eyes sliding shut as a symphony of screams and gunfire greeted his ears from far below.

The static of his radio gave way to HUNK's voice. "Good work. Head to the cantina and prepare for phase two. Doctor, have the Devil's Breath prepared for our one guest."

"Copy that." Collapsing his rifle, the blond quickly descended the tower. Passing the bodies of clergy who had tried to stop him, he was careful to avoid the pools of blood. Approaching the altar, he grabbed the case left there previously. Standard procedure, if he'd been clipped and killed… it just saved HUNK's men time to retrieve it. Even if none of them knew how much to administer, they'd still have a chance.

Eyes catching the sight of the Holy Cross in paned glass, he stopped. A glance shot towards two of the priests who lay dead in a pool of their own blood, it was hard to say just what Albert felt. There was no forgiveness for men like HUNK; for men like himself.

"Doctor, ETA?" HUNK's voice blared on his radio in the silence of the church turned graveyard.

"Five minutes."

* * *

Tapping her fingers on the keyboard at a hurried pace, Jill backspaced almost two lines of text with a yawn. Being assigned to reformatting all of S.T.A.R.S. files from hand written to digital files was turning out to be 'so much fun', as she informed a curious Rebecca Chambers who had arrived early that morning for her shift.

"At least you're not stuck in hooker boots doing this." Rebecca said with a snicker, cracking open her can of soda while Jill's fingers briskly continued recording information.

"Yes, but Forest's writing is worse than someone with Parkinson's disease." Blue eyes lifting to Rebecca, she just shook her head a bit. "May as well be written in crayon. Ken's isn't much better and he drew tits on one page of the report. How did that get past Captain Marini?"

"Oh, cheer up Jill. You have three days off after this. Get to go to that big wedding, right?" A sip taken from the cola, Miss Chambers sat on the edge of Valentine's desk.

"Yes, and it's the only reason I'm not jumping out of the window right now." Swiveling in her chair, she leaned back. "Four more hours…"

"Why did Captain Wesker have you doing this anyway? This is Brad's chore when he's not flying."

Jill's gaze flicked to the office situated at the back of the room. Blinds open, she could easily view the empty chair in the office. "Not sure."

"Well, take a break. I'm going down to the gym to see what the boys are up to before the shift change." Jumping up, she set the can of soda on the desk before gesturing for the other woman to follow.

Shoulders sagging, Jill couldn't refuse a chance to walk around. She'd been working since she and Chris had gotten back from the hospital. Avoiding looking towards the office in the back, she was tired of worrying.

Stopping in at the arms room, Rebecca was quick to poke fun at Joseph crammed in the corner counting boxes of ammunition. The bandana bearing man could only give a shake to his head at her verbal jab. "So funny, 'Becca. Hey Jill, I heard a rumor. Is it true that you're dragging Chris along to the wedding?"

She nodded, leaning against the side of the doorway. "May as well let my partner enjoy free drinks and a dinner. I'm not one for going stag."

Frost nodded, peering up to her. "Well, have fun. Chris is a good nanny if you decide to cut loose and start dancing on tables."

"Just, kinda keep it to yourself. I don't want to get a speech from Captain Marini about perceptions. Would rather ask for forgiveness than permission, you know?"

"Marini usually turns a blind eye to most people. Oh, hi Rebecca!" He grinned, dodging the pen the younger woman threw at him. "Have fun, I gotta finish this up if you two don't mind."

Back in the hallway, the two walked in silence for a bit. "Just going as friends, right?" Rebecca asked bluntly.

"Yup, I don't think dating a coworker is a good idea. Chris knows, and he felt the same way."

"Good, I just don't want to see anyone hurt. You've been pretty blue lately." Hands atop her head, Chambers smiled fondly at a passing officer.

An hour dragged by before Rebecca and Jill made their way downstairs to check the gym for the other members of their team. Edward, running on the treadmill, was trying to optimize his 'buns 'n tighs' as he informed the two in German accent. Seeing as Ed was not in any place to spread rumors, Rebecca aired to him the rumor flying around had been true. Nearly face planting, he immediately stopped the machine. "I thought Forest was acting weird!" He cried, "Oh well, if things get boring you can always stop by J's bar. We'll all be there watching Forest singing 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' after this."

The sound of someone clearing their throat caught their attention, Forest Speyer approaching to hop on the stationary bike. "I heard a rumor!" He practically yelled with eyes on Jill as she put her face in her palms. Ed's laughing didn't erase the sour look from the dark haired man's face, only amplified it. "But, it's okay! I know that you two would never betray me! My trust is intact!"

"Christ, Forest." Rebecca sighed.

"I should get back to the office." Jill said with a grin, a pat on the shoulder given to Forest before she departed. "See you guys in a few days."

* * *

The plastic explosive's detonation was loud enough to alert half of the town that something was amiss. Flashlights on the ends of assault rifles were flicked on as the team descended the stairs. Hanging back with their prisoner, Albert drew his handgun. "How long do we have?"

"Twenty minutes, doctor. After that we'll have company. Orders are KOS anything that stands in our way."

' _Typical.'_

Boots clattering against the grated stairwell, the two were quick to catch up with the rest of the team. The intoxicated Arvada was all too happy to open every door they requested. Once inside, everyone scoured through a maze of shipping crates. The only light to be seen was that cast by a plethora of flash lights.

"Squad One, reporting. No sign of a laboratory entrance."

"Squad Two, reporting. No sign of a laboratory entrance."

HUNK let out a deep groan. "Do they even have eyes in their heads?" He turned to peer at Albert, who was already pulling open the doors to one of the crates. Flashlight flicked on, he poured its rays into the crate. "I'll be damned. Squads One and Two, close in on my location. We found the entrance."

More stairs, the squads scrambled to get to the bottom. HUNK taking point left Wesker alone with the man who had become a thorn in his side.

"So, Mister Arvada… Do you know why we're here?"

The tanned man nodded. "You're a police force who needs access to the lab."

A devious grin devoured the blonde's features. Devil's Breath was a very convincing substance. He had only needed to tell the man their intentions once. "That's correct. You're going to help us get into the laboratory, aren't you?"

Arvada nodded as they made their way further down. "Yes. I am a concerned citizen, after all."

It took everything within Albert not to laugh at that.

" _Identity confirmed. Welcome back, Mr. Arvada."_  The automated voice rang through the air after Jose stood in front of the retinal scanner.

Twin doors drawing back, the team slipped inside of the laboratory.

"What a fucking dump." Wesker's disappointment couldn't be contained. "It's in worse shape than that facility in Brazil."

"No time to bitch about the décor, doctor." HUNK uttered, pointing out what looked like the door to a loading ramp. "Squad One, that's probably our best ticket out of here unnoticed. Check it out and call the trucks."

It didn't take long for Arvada to open everything for them. Chemical lockers, once open, were dumped of their contents. Gas masks thrown on, members of the second squad emptied every container right on the floor.

One close look at the inside of the previously secure freezer used to house samples, and Albert found a few things of interest. Loading sample vials in a protective case, he left the door wide open upon exiting. "Dump what's left from the lockers in the freezer. I would hate for a cloud of some of those things to get loose. Rig it with C4 after. We'll detonate remotely." His clipped voice addressed the men who were cracking into a drum of chemicals.

Taking the case from Wesker, HUNK opened it briefly to double check the contents. "Did you get a chance to check out their attempt to copy your work?"

Brows lifted, Albert followed the other man's stare towards the far end of the laboratory. Approaching the seven foot glass tube, his deathly silence caused the silver haired mercenary to laugh.

The creature was a mess. Graying skin, almost blue, scoured its entire naked form. One appendage was much larger and longer than the other. Horrible tumors covered its chest. All of its teeth had been removed, or had fallen out. No eyes to be seen in their usual sockets.

"I knew it would stick in your craw that they tried to recreate it."

' _Tyrant… My life's work has a cheap knock off. Whoever would have thought I would live to see this day?'_

At the console, Wesker began to investigate the vitals. "Caveman's work, Mr. Death. They're using a drug coma to keep this creature asleep. Cryogenic sleep would have been smarter."

Leaned against the side of the console, HUNK hardly appeared impressed by it all. Reloading his assault rifle, he couldn't pass the opportunity to continue poking at Wesker's ego. "I think this one is faring better than yours did. He's still got his dick."

"I suppose that would be a victory for any man who has endured the effects of the T-Virus, though this isn't the T-Virus. They've been messing with something else." Long fingers typing away at the small keyboard at the console, Albert's stare narrowed. "Progenitor virus… and I wonder how they got ahold of it."

"Probably the same way that a few other companies got ahold of Umbrella's work: we have greedy little rats in the company. Can you find when it was first used?"

"Not from this console," an annoyed string filled the blonde's voice as he turned to face Arvada.

"We should dispose of it before we leave. Same with him." Hunk departed to join the others at the loading dock's entry point.

A passive and vacant expression on the Colombian man's face was enough evidence that he was thoroughly drugged. His eyes pitched toward the ceiling, not seeming to grasp any of the shapes in architecture above.

Wesker watched, silent as a snake in the grass.

' _Is there even a more perfect way to dispose of him than being torn apart by his own creation?'_

A sinister smirk unfurled on his lips.

They waited until the drug wore off.

Jammed against the bars of the gate, part of a failsafe system to keep the creature contained, Arvada desperately tried to reach out to the sea of masks that silently stared at him. He cursed them for cowards.

Albert most of all.

With a stone cold gaze, Wesker watched the creature's shadow tower over the terrified man. Then the man was snatched from sight. His screams and begging to a god who was nowhere to be found were reward enough for all that he had put them through.

Once his body was nothing more than a mess of gore, HUNK slid the barrel of his rifle between the bars.

Wesker's hand snatched to his shoulder without warning. "Wait. Look."

Before their eyes, the creature began to crumble. Flesh, muscle and tendons seemed to just shed right off bone as it moved. The essential parts that kept bones together seemed to snap like twigs. What first appeared to be a mighty entity of a mad man's creation, simply dropped into a heap.

"What the fuck is wrong with it?" One of the gas masks behind them asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

There were no answers. It was a question that bothered Wesker the entire flight home. What salvageable material he gathered from the creature's body went with him.


	19. Chapter 19

 

Ozwell E. Spencer turned his head at the sound of the twin doors leading into his lavish office opening. Cigar smoke wafting from his nostrils, a grin broke out on his lips. "I see you made it back in one piece. Arvada is dead, I presume?"

HUNK approached the mahogany desk between himself and the aging man. "There was a problem."

As Wesker stepped into the room, the doors closed behind him.

Spencer's aged brows lifted. "Well?"

Sunglasses removed, the blond strode over to join the other two. Silver briefcase in hand, he set it down on the desk and opened it. "Arvada had a nasty surprise waiting in that laboratory."

Seated in the leather chair, Spencer took the report offered to him. "BOWs?"

"Horrible copy of one. It fell apart just from movement. The samples are on their way to Arklay."

Flipping through the photographs clipped to the report, Ozwell leaned back in his seat.

"He was getting close…"

The old man let out a laugh. "It doesn't matter now." Photos dropped, a smug look fixed to his features. "He's dead. Standard protocol is to torch what is discovered after what we need is removed. They will never rebuild without him or his little bastard."

"Consider his death your wedding gift." HUNK replied with a sneer.

"The best gift of all." A gentle nod from Spencer and the two men departed.

* * *

"Ma'am, there is no smoking in here." The clerk said in a huff behind her wire rim glasses as she approached. Dressed in a casual pinstripe number, her arms folded across her chest as she peered to the blonde woman who didn't seem too concern about violating the store's policy.

Annette Birkin gave a heavy roll of her chilly blue eyes, dumping the Virginia Slim right into her cup of coffee. "Didn't see the sign, sorry." She smiled brightly at the woman, though as the store assistant turned away, the blonde woman made a face. "Fun police run this boutique." A small sigh and she turned to peer at the white stained door of the fitting room. "Today, Miss Valentine! I still want to go to the nail salon and gossip about people at work with Thu-Sang." A glance to her nails caused Annette to cringe. Isopropyl alcohol and a plethora of other sanitizers had done their worst to her once lovely and slender hands.  _'Should wear gloves more often.'_  She thought absently as the door swung open. "There you are!"

The light blue evening gown hugged about Jill's form as she stepped out. Hours of working out had paid off, nothing but sleek curves and a flat stomach beneath the fabric. A collared top hugged to her neck while twin straps of fabric rolled down the opening to the bust where they met more of the same colored satin fabric. Open slit on the right side rode high to the side of her thigh. "I don't know." She blurted out, twisting about trying to view herself in the mirror. The back was open, zipper still partially undone.

"Oh come on, it looks great. Shade really compliments your eyes and hair color. You won't need to accessorize with it, or do much with your hair since you keep it short." Annette had already lit up another cigarette, approaching to zip and button the back for a better show of the dress. "Plus, this one already has the push up bra sewn into it. We girls who aren't born with bowling ball sized knockers need all the help we can get." Annette was a bull in a china shop when it came to tactfully expressing herself.

Her blunt honesty did always make Jill grin. "Right, I think push-ups haven't exactly helped me." A glance to the price tag and the brunette winced.

"I'm paying. Shut up. Pick a damn dress." Ash flicked right onto the floor, Annette smirked as the other woman shot her a scowl in the mirror. "Stop being bashful, you're probably my only real friend left in this dump of a city and you're a cop. You're not paid nearly what you should be, but that's a political rant for another day. You know what I do all day? I work in the lab in the hospital, identifying bacteria and viruses that sick folks come in with. I get paid over seventy-thousand to look at pee under a microscope. This country is a little backwards."

Valentine couldn't argue with that, peering over the dress a bit more. "I need to go back to school, it sounds like."

"If you want to be dejected as I am, sure. Though, if you show me someone with a deep loathing for all mankind, I'll show you someone who works in retail." She winked, quick to dump her cigarette in her coffee again as she heard the voice of the clerk around the corner.

Smiling a bit, Jill held back a chuckle. "Alright, this is the one." Slipping back into the dressing room, she started to change. "Did you and William have trouble finding a babysitter for Sherry?"

"Not really, William's mother decided to drive up from Santa Fe for the week. Give her some time with Sherry since we spend Thanksgiving with my family and then go see William's father."

"His parents are divorced?" Jill sounded a bit surprised. William and Annette were a perfect sort of dysfunctional pair, living a happy life that held no visible signs of trouble.

"Ten years now. They split when Will and I were still dating, and he took it pretty rough. We moved away after William was offered a job here, warning both of them to get their heads screwed on straight if they wanted to be part of Sherry's life. They've both come to heel. You ever get married, Jill, make sure to get to know the parents of your to be spouse. Especially the mother in law, sometimes they do things that would make your skin crawl." Coffee dumped in the squatting trashcan in the corner, Annette dusted her hands. "I was lucky; William's mother is great. She's a hysterical hippie. How it ever came to be that her son went to work for 'the man' is beyond me."

Slipping out of the dressing room, Jill rested three unwanted dresses on the hook residing on the back of the door. "I just hope my date doesn't laugh hysterically at me."

Annette gave a roll of her eyes as they approached the checkout counter. "You'll look fine. He'll probably have a goofy grin on his face the entire time."

Jill could feel her face flushing as Mrs. Birkin offered her credit card over.

"I know it's not what you wanted…" Signing her name on the line, Annette sighed. "I'm sure that you'll have fun though." Slip of paper handed back to the clerk; she gave a faux smile towards the woman before shoving the dress wrapped in plastic towards Jill. "We'll eat, drink, and have lots of fun. Maybe we can even get a conga line going."

Jill's mouth twitched into a grin.

As the pair departed the store, Annette opened the back door to her station wagon, allowing the brunette to stow the dress before they continued on. "Did you know that Barry Burton's wife works for Umbrella? She sells beauty supplies. I was a little shocked when I realized her husband worked for Albert."

As they walked, cooled air caused Jill to tug her jacket a little closer.

Another cigarette lit, Annette dumped the lighter in the pocket of her tan trench coat. Stopping, she peered at Jill. "You alive?"

"Yeah, just lost in my thoughts." Jill's eyes flicked to the crosswalk's 'walk' signal flashing to white.

"Don't worry about him. He's a big boy. You'll have your chance to fawn all over him soon enough." Annette flicked a bit of ash from her cigarette as they strolled across to the next block. Sunlight was peeking between the fluffy clouds overhead in the afternoon chill.

"I don't fawn all over him." Valentine replied, her stare straying to the people going about their lives on the other side of the road from them.

"Sure you don't." Opening the door to the salon, Annette was first greeted by the usual jingle that sounded when the building was entered and the stiff smell of acrylic.

Jill bore a weak smirk, despites her emotions worming and coiling over themselves in her head. She was donning masks, burying her feelings the only way she knew how now to cope as they spent an hour chit chatting idly over the coming evening's events.

* * *

Parking outside 'The Depot' was a nightmare if you were Christopher Redfield, not interested in using valet. "Last time I did, they scratched the living hell out of this old girl. I tear her up enough without assistance." Jill's laugh caused a smile to break out on his face. After twenty minutes of searching, the old thunderbird slid into a space.

"I don't mind. Could use some practice walking in these heels." Jill said after shutting the door to the passenger side. Wrap slid over her shoulders, she shivered visibly.

"I don't get the appeal in wearing those things. Claire tells me how it's the most awkward experience in the world." His own door shut, the brunette man locked the car doors before approaching her. Dressed in a new coal black suit with black tie, he looked so out of place in all the right ways. The suit fit him well; sharp white shirt and deep black a heavy contrast to his tanned features. Normally rugged appearance was clean shaven, hair still rumpled in its usual style kept his rough around the edges persona intact. An arm offered to the woman, he tried his hand at this 'gentleman' business.

' _Wow, he actually looks really good.'_ The woman was quick to swat whatever thoughts tried to snake free after that."Why thank you, partner." Jill flashed a pearly smile at the taller man, grateful for the offered arm. It kept her from falling a couple times on their little stroll. "So, how's life been treating you?"

"Oh, pretty good. I met another girl, and she's very jealous that I'm not on her couch tonight watching reruns of Gunsmoke with her." Deep brown eyes peering to his shorter companion, he chuckled a bit. "She thinks you're out to steal me, even though we met only a couple days ago. I think I settled her a bit with mentioning that you were ditched by Satan and needed someone to show up with you."

"She has nothing to fear," Jill said with a grin, offering a wave to a couple she recognized from the engagement party. Despite considering heavily the prospect of apology, she wouldn't desert the hurt feelings still frothing in her heart. "Well the others were going to be at J's tonight. If we get out early, she can meet us there. I'll catch a ride home with Rebecca or something. Don't want to make things odd for you two."

Chris laughed, giving her hand a squeeze with his free hand. "Aww, look at you, watching my back already. It's alright, but if we do I'll be sure to give her a call."

So close, Jill could smell his cologne as they approached the façade of their destination. Heavy with cinnamon and something else she didn't recognize, it was a pleasant aroma. Passing the first set of doors, they came to a stop behind several others arriving. Handing over her invitation to the elderly gentleman with the guest list, when their time came, the woman carefully tucked a few strands of brunette behind her ear.  _'Why do I feel nervous?'_

"Miss Valentine, welcome. You and your guest are seated on the groom's side of the isle if you please during the wedding ceremony. You are seated at table #2 during the reception. Please take a left at the double doors behind me, the ceremony will begin shortly." A gentle bow of his head as the pair passed, he was quick to greet the following guests.

As they walked, Chris let out a whistle at all of the decorations lining the main hall where the reception was being held. Gold and white was apparently the theme, several men and women dressed in white on black attire arranging the tables. White roses in every sort of arrangement graced the spacious hall. Full bar along the western and eastern walls, it seemed the final touches were being added. "Very fancy, never thought I'd be attending one of these things."

"You've really never been to anything like this?" The nervousness biting at her psyche was not letting up; a distraction was in order before Jill screamed.

Chris let off a shrug. "A couple weddings, but not to this level of extravagant. Military balls were never really my thing. Would get bored and drag half of the party off to play beer pong in my garage." White grin, he nodded to the shorter man who opened the doorway leading to the area set aside for the wedding ceremony. "So we're on the groom's side. There's Barry and his wife. Wanna sit with them?"

Jill nodded, glad to be taking a seat, heels already killing her. Easier to just follow along and get through this ceremony without incident. A wave to the Burtons, she carefully took a seat beside Chris.

"Hey you two, you clean up well." Barry offered with a grin beneath his red beard before resting an arm behind his wife. "We got here pretty early. You would not believe who is here for this."

Barry's wife took her turn to chime in. "Saw the governor, Chief Irons, a couple senators, and Captain Marini is near the front with his wife." She pointed out.

"Anyone else we know?" Chris asked, something in his tone sounding irritated at the possibility.

Barry shook his head, catching the meaning. "Yeah, he was up there with Marini. Stepped out about ten minutes ago on the phone."

"That girl he's with is just stunning. I think she's a model." Barry's wife, yet again, so very helpful.

Jill smoldered silently, mask still fixed beneath her skin. "Captain Wesker does seem to date very pretty girls."

"Or steal them, depending on his mood." Chris chimed in, retrieving a flask from the inside of his jacket. Taking a swig, he offered it over to Jill.

She didn't hesitate to partake.  _'That might help.'_

"Easy Chris, no need to get into a fist fight in the middle of the wedding. Your date is better looking than this toucan nosed skeleton anyway." The burly man said, coughing into an enclosed fist.

"Wow Barry, tell us how you really feel." Redfield rested an ankle over his knee, grinning ear to ear at his old buddy.

"I don't know what my wife is talking about." Her protests of just trying to speak kindly were met with Barry's laughing. "Woman, you have a heart of gold." Dark eyes shifting down the bench, he addressed Jill. "You know, I almost thought you and the captain were seeing one another."

Before she could get out a word, Chris was at her rescue. "Nah, just friends. Don't know how he can hold onto a friend like her being such a jackass. She was with Slade, remember?"

"Oh yeah, sorry Jill. Didn't mean to…yeah." Barry looked a few shades dark red, embarrassment on his features.

"Its fine, Barry." Brushing a few strands of brunette behind her ear, a gentle prod of her shoulder had her looking up.

"These seats taken, pretty lady?" Annette threw her a wink before sitting down. "Sorry we're late. William's mother overloaded the washing machine. Bubbles everywhere." She made a flittering gesture with both hands spreading out before dropped back to her lap.

"You'd think a fifty year old woman would know how to run one." William said with a sigh, hand running through his unruly hair. Dressed in a dark gray suit, he peered over to the rest in their pew. "So, this is Chris Redfield?"

Perking a brow, Chris waved down the row. "Uh, yeah." Confusion on his face, he looked to the short haired brunette at his side. "Your friends?"

"William and Annette Birkin." Valentine's gesture to the pair and the couple waved. "They work at the hospital."

Seemed reasonable enough to Chris, a wave returned to them before he spoke. "Nice to meet you both."

"Likewise." Annette grinned, a hand coming to rest on Jill's shoulder as she spoke softly. "Yeah, we didn't realize he was a handsome devil when William brought up the idea. We only knew someone really isn't a big fan of Mr. Redfield. This is going to be far more entertaining than we thought."

' _Great.'_  Jill's gaze lifted as something caught the corner of her eye.

Returning to his seat, cell phone flipped shut, Albert didn't seem to take notice of anything around him. Dressed in black from head to toe, even his tie, if he'd been anyone else it may have been thought he was going to a funeral. No sunglasses, his usual expression of emptiness bathed the blonde's face. Disappearing from sight after he sat down caused both William and his wife to snicker, and Chris to curse quietly.

"Oh William, life is so much more entertaining these days. I hope you brought the camera." Annette beamed.

"I brought two; this is something I want to remember forever." Mr. Birkin said with a grin, though his expression fell after catching a glance of the look on Jill's face.

Annette seemed to take notice as well, gently nudging the woman on her left. "Don't let it bother you." The woman nodding and her expression settling caused the blonde woman to smile. "Just so you know, we're sitting with you at dinner."

Valentine nodded, her head turning to peer forward as the music began.  _'Where would I be without you, Annette?'_

"Table two is going to be a hoot!" William smirked. "Guess who else is sitting with us?"

Jill frowned just a touch. "Oh joy."

The ceremony opened with the groom and his groomsmen treading down the aisle, dressed in black with silver vests and matching appropriate ties. All older men, not a single youth in the bunch, they took their places before bridesmaids made their trip down and then the flower girls and little ring bearer. All rising as the bride made her appearance, dressed in white from head to toe. Unorthodox, she wore no veil, only the brightest of smiles as she approached her to be husband.

"Nobody giving her away?" Chris asked, confused as ever.

"Her parents were killed when she was a child, no other living family." Barry muttered in response.

Redfield knew that story all too well, no response for such a story.

The priest stepped forward as the pair approached, smiling broadly before addressing the crowd. "To all present I say: We are gathered here, not to witness the beginning of what will be, but rather what already is! We do not create this marriage, because we cannot. We can and do, however, celebrate with Sir Oswell Spencer and Victoria Davenport, the wondrous and joyful occurrence that has already taken place in their lives, and the commitment they make today."

The priest had the audience's undivided attention, his voice heard clear throughout the rows. "True marriage begins well before the wedding day, and the efforts of marriage continue well beyond the ceremony's end. A brief moment in time and the stroke of the pen are all that is required to create the legal bond of marriage, but it takes a lifetime of love, commitment, and compromise to make marriage durable and everlasting. Today you declare your commitment to each other before family and friends, your yesterdays were the path to this moment, and your journey to a future of togetherness becomes a little clearer with each new day."

Jill's gaze flicked from the priest, gazing beyond the bench she sat upon towards the front. No sign of the man she was searching for found through cornflower eyes. An empty void had already taken residence in the pit of her stomach and now it ate outwards.

"When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. Such is an impossibility, and even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, and of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror at its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity - in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern. Remember this in days when your marriage is put to the test, and have faith that what you two have will endure long beyond death." Flipping open his bible, the priest continued. "My dearest friend, Amelia Roselyn wrote these words and may they touch your hearts as they did my own: Love should have no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if your love and needs must have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; Then to sleep with a vision of the beloved in your heart and a song of love on your lips."

"Wow, he's good." Annette muttered softly, side glancing to the female on her left. A smirk and she elbowed her once again.

Jill's own smirk was all the reply she could bear.

Sunlight draining from the room, the overhead lights came on. "The couple has written their own vows, which they shall recite now. Sir Spencer?"

Aged and weathered handed, Oswell took the youthful woman's hands in his own before he spoke. "Victoria, I offer not the "summer of my life" but the autumn."

"More like dead of winter…" Annette whispered. Jill held in a snort, shielding her red face.

"I promise to be a companion worthy of your precious love and kind heart. I pledge to you compassion and understanding in good times and bad; encouragement and devotion in sickness and in health. It is my joy that our life together will include our large circle of friends and adoring families. We'll treasure the memories of our individual pasts; and create our new life as we go now as husband and wife. I love you, dearest heart of mine." Leaning in, he pecked a kiss on her cheek after placing a ring on her finger.

A sliver of cold ran down Jill's back, eyes adverting from the front of the room. Chris gave her a gentle nudge.

"You alright?"

She nodded, though not too convincing. His free hand came to rest over hers, a brief squeeze given before it fell away.

Applause filling the room, the crowd quieted down before the young platinum blonde bride began to recite her own vows. "It is the greatest desire of my heart to be faithful to you and to love you always, Ozwell. I wish to seek meeting your every need, desiring to help you in every way, listening to you, encouraging you, comforting you and standing by your side in whatever circumstances may face us in the years ahead."

"Bankruptcy and boyfriend considered circumstances?" Annette could not be tamed, and Jill had to bury a snort.

"I will respect you, honor you and strive for harmony in our marriage with a quiet and gentle spirit as your loving and loyal wife." Victoria pressed a gentle kiss in return to her groom after slipping the ring on his aged finger, more applause meeting the end of her vows.

"May you always need one another, not to fill emptiness, but to help each other know your fullness. May you want one another, but not out of lack. May you embrace one another, but not encircle one another. May you succeed in all important ways with each other, and not fail in the little graces. May you have happiness, and may you find it in making one another happy. May you have love, and may you find it in loving one another." A gentle smile and he spoke further. "And now, by the power vested in me by the State of Colorado, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. Sir Spencer, you may kiss your bride." The priest declared, joining in the applause as the two exchanged the show of affection. The audience rose as the pair made their way down the aisle and out of the room first.

"Well, that went better than I thought it would." Barry said with a chuckle. "Very young bride, but what do you expect with old money?"

Chris gave a gentle shrug. "I don't know anything about that, Barry." Turning to Jill, he grinned. "Was a good ceremony though."

All Valentine could offer was a nod. As they waited for the front aisles to clear out, Chris chatted a bit with Barry and his wife before excusing himself to the restroom. "I'll see you at table two, Jilly."

A gentle wave and Jill huffed softly. "I need a drink." Chris' empty flask tossed into her clutch, she peered towards the Birkins.

"Don't look now but here he comes to wreck your day," Annette's elbow found Jill's rib once more.

Wesker offered a wave towards William as they approached, devilish smirk fixed to his lips at something his companion said. "I don't think so." He replied to whatever muted question she had.

The woman accompanying Wesker was small in frame, a beautiful face and long black hair tied back in a French twist. Busty, with few curves, it was possible she wasn't normally endowed. Make up may have been a bit heavy, but she was lovely and youthful regardless.

' _Lovely, youthful, impressionable….'_

Those words grated their teeth over her mind as Jill's eyes burned. Barry's gentle grizzly palm on her shoulder brought the woman back to reality as she began to follow the man and his wife out of the pew wordlessly. Full retreat, she'd live to fight another day.

"Albert! We didn't see you." Grin plastered on, Annette almost drug the blonde right into William. "How are you?"

Brushing the sleeve of his black suit, Wesker stretched his arm to welcome the dark haired woman accompanying him. "Fine, thank you. William, Annette; I'd like you to meet Carmen. She's a photographer at—…" His blue eyes didn't fix to either, just the form of Jill Valentine slipping away with the Burtons. "Oh, she showed up?"

William and Annette exchanged a side glance, and then nodded.

"Yes."

"She did."

A brow popped at the pair, Albert never could be sure of the Birkins when they looked like they were conspiring.  _'Pinky and the Brain couldn't compare to you two…'_  Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. "What is it?"

"Nothing, Albert." Annette smiled sweetly, grabbing William's hand and proceeded to drag him away.

"Nothing at all, consider the rest of the night to be the Twilight Zone."

Confusion written all over a normally deadpan face, Albert just shook his head.

"Your friends are quite…eccentric." The very slim and mocha skinned woman said, checking her pager before tossing it back into her clutch.

"Carmen, you have no idea… Shall we?" Offering her a hand, the blonde man began escorting his companion towards the exit.

* * *

In the ladies bathroom, Jill was already drenching her face from the sink. "What an asshole." She hissed softly.

Cigarette lit, Annette shook her head. "Now, now, now, there's no need for name calling." Tearing off a few paper towels, she offered them over to the brunette woman. "Bury the rage and be sweet."

William raised a brow as a woman entering gasped at the sight of a man sitting on the loveseat in the elegant bathroom. "I'm not a man anymore; my wife has my wedding tackle on the mantle in a jar." Apparently it won her over as the olive skinned woman slipped past and entered one of the stalls. "What game are we playing? Scrabble?"

"No, we're playing 'shit or get off the pot', husband." Opening her clutch, she offered over tube of liquid foundation followed by a compact of powder.

"Oh, right." Pulling out the disposable camera, William snapped a picture of the two by the mirrors.

Annette leaned against the wall dividing the mirrors from the stalls. "Absolutely no showing that he's gotten in your head. Insecurity is ugly. Play it sweet and charming, like nothing has ever transpired."

"I just want to piss him off now." Jill huffed, brushing foundation over her face. War paint. "If he wants to play sweet when we're alone and then flaunt a woman in front of me like it's a game then a game we shall play."

"Annette's right. Don't stoop to his level and be openly hostile. Show some class and just swish your ass a bit. He'll get over it." William's words were falling on deaf ears it seemed. "We're at a damn wedding, lady!"

The dark skinned woman laughed, leaving the stall to wash her hands. "I heard a little bit of this. Let me tell you something, girl. My husband pulled the same sort of jealousy stunt apparently that your boyfriend is. Let me tell you, that girl ended up arrested for heroine in her car… He and I got back together, been married for fifteen years."

"So how did it get in her car?" William asked.

The black woman gave him a look, and then pursed her lips. "I don't know… I will tell you this much, love will make you do some crazy shit if you don't keep it in check. I should have just forgiven him for not remembering our anniversary when we were dating." Drying her hands, she departed the bathroom. "Ya'll have a blessed evening."

"The sister does have a point. Being the crazy one is never good." Annette made a gesture towards the door, though her words were still falling on deaf ears too.

"I'm not going to plant evidence in that girl's car…though there is about fifty kilos of cocaine in the evidence locker at the RPD…"

"Don't turn black, Jill." William pounded his chest as she looked at him. "Stay white."

Applying eyeliner and mascara, the brunette woman gave a sigh. "I will." Her gaze shifted to Annette behind her in the mirror.

William frowned, rising from the loveseat to depart. "I'm gonna go find myself a drink. This is Macbeth in the making."

Slipping up to stand next to the brunette woman, Annette sighed. "Just have a good time with Chris, ignore him outside of being polite."

"That'll do it?" Jill pressed a small bit of eye shadow over her eyes, a nude hue it was hardly noticeable.

"Oh yes, more than you will ever know."

* * *

The reception in full swing as William approached the bar on the western wall. "Mojito, please," the scientist sighed deeply as he leaned against the wood top of the bar.

"So, she's already in the bathroom sobbing." Albert's sudden appearance made his long-time friend jump.

"Jesus, Albert. Yeah, she's in there with Annette."

"Good, she can stay there all night sulking."

A roll of his pale eyes and William picked up his drink. Changing the subject, the scruffy and slim man prodded at the mint leaves in his drink with the straw provided. "So, who is Carmen? You said she was a photographer. Is she one of those hot girls who buys a camera and takes a black and white picture of a rocking chair because she's so broody and deep?"

"She works for the newspaper, doing most of their photography. Scotch on the rocks." Catching the bartender as he passed, the blonde lofted a brow towards William. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what? I'm just tired." A sip taken of his drink, the male Birkin sighed. "Annette and I have been working around the clock down in the basement." Basement, a common reference in the circles of Umbrella scientists for the Arklay labs that resided deep in the mountains.

"Make a breakthrough?" Albert actually sounded interested for once. Usually he dismissed matters that previous versions of himself took pride in doing. He'd abandoned that life when Spencer began heavily pushing Ebola research. Too many dead bodies, too much blood on his digits. Albert had washed his hands of it all.

William nodded. "Big ones lately. Lisa says 'Hi'…with her fists. I swear, every time we let her out, she goes straight for that picture of you and the others with hate in her beady eyes. She's docile around me. We've never figured out why that is."

Wesker could only smirk. "Oh Lisa, my favorite girl in the whole wide world."

"You just can't win with women." Birkin took another sip from his drink. "Anyway, you should stop by sometime within the next week at the hospital. You know, if you can pen in some time when not fighting with your little ocelot."

"I'll think about it. Might make it a full trip down memory lane and go see how Lisa is doing."

"I'm sure she'd love that." William snickered. "You were her favorite person."

Wesker's expression soured briefly. "Please, if she was here she'd be in the bathroom trying to give Valentine a shank to end me with." Drink picked up, the blonde shifted away. "I'll see you at the table."

* * *

Jill, feeling far more revived now with a fresh coat of make-up and her war face on, sauntered past a couple of the tables, finding her way towards the other members of S.T.A.R.S. gathered near the wedding cake. Lute of champagne in hand, she returned a wave to Enrico upon approach. "Evening, everyone." A bright smile and she took her place next to Chris.

"Where did you run off to?" Chris was already heavy into a glass of whiskey with soda. "Been looking for you for about twenty minutes."

"I ran into a couple friends and got caught up in a conversation." Polishing off her lute of drink, the brunette woman peered towards the crowds near the table reserved for the wedding party. "I can't believe how many people are here."

Enrico agreed with a nod, arm coming to rest around his wife's waist. "Yeah, saw Irons about five minutes ago. We're not sophisticated enough for him to stay and chat with. You'd swear he was a tumor stuck on the mayor's back the way he was following that man around."

Barry chuckled a bit. "Well, we're going to go ahead and get seated. See all of you after dinner." The Burtons departing, everyone else broke off in pairs as well to find their tables.

"Man, I am starved." Chris admitted, running a hand through his rowdy hair as they made their way across the room. "What were the options for plates?"

"Uh, I think it was either a filet mignon or fish unless you wanted a vegetarian meal." Jill replied, snagging a lute of champagne as a server passed them.

"I think I'll skip eating what a cow eats and just eat the cow." Redfield grinned. "So, have you seen Captain Asshole?"

"Not yet."

"Would you be mad if I had his car towed instead of the guy that ditched you?"

Jill laughed a bit, the drink going down easy and bubbles making her feel lighter with every lute drank. "I think he's built enough bad karma that you don't have to do anything."

' _Except walk up with me in five…four…'_

* * *

Albert raised a brow as Annette and William took their seats at the table, male Birkin seating his wife before himself. "Well, you two look nice for people who haven't been sleeping."

Annette flicked a few ashes into the ashtray on the table. "Well, it's been a busy week." Her gaze lifted up as a gentle hand rested on her shoulder. "Oh! There you are. We were wondering when you two were going to show up."

Wesker's gaze flicked up at the blonde woman's greeting. Jill and…

' _No.'_

Chris offered a wave to the pair. "Hello again, guess we're sitting next to you." Pulling out a chair, he offered it to his date.

' _NO.'_

Brunette strands brushed behind an ear, Jill gave the shyest of smiles. "Thank you, Chris." Her eyes clicked their gaze towards Wesker, the same smile still on her face.

' _She brought the goddamn boy scout._ '

"You are most welcome, Jill. So, have they been by yet taking orders?" Giving his knuckles a crack, Redfield didn't notice the eye roll from across the round table.

William shook his head. "Not yet, but it'll be soon. I can't imagine the food would be terrible for this over the top celebration."

"Evening, Captain. How was your vacation?" Valentine finally addressed the man in black across from her. "This lovely lady is your date?"

The good captain didn't have much to say, only a dark leer found in his steel blue eyes. "Yes, she is."

Carmen went ahead and introduced herself. "Yes, I'm Carmen Valdez. I work for  _The Raccoon City Times_. Albert and I met a couple days ago; I have to say I'm very impressed by him. Who are you?"

Jill sat her lute of drink on the table. "Jill Valentine, I'm in S.T.A.R.S. and I work with Captain Wesker. Oh, and this is my partner, Chris Redfield."

Chris gave a nod, busy with waving down Brad who was passing by with Joan Piper in tow. "Hey Brad! C'mere."

Wesker was not doing well hiding his anger at the presence of Christopher. The man's very existence was annoying enough at work. Blood between the two was only a matter of time.  _'She cannot possibly…'_  The very idea was making him ill. Those two together, that blue dress on the floor of what was no doubt Redfield's trashy apartment, walls lined with posters of fast cars and half naked women…

"Oh, so you two are together?" Miss Valdez asked innocently. Sweet girl had no idea what she'd just done.

Chris peered over his shoulder. "What?"

The popping sound of glass breaking caused everyone to jerk their stare. Carmen let out a gasp. "Oh God, here let me…" Cloth napkin produced from under her silverware, she brushed the broken glass from Albert's hand.

His gaze was set on Jill, as was hers to him. A darkness the brunette woman had never seen before swelled in those irises of his. The flash of a camera caused him to squint away, and thankfully recover before he was found out.

Annette snorted a bit, eyes side glanced to her husband as he dropped his hands and the camera to his lap. "What did you say this was, Will? The Twilight Zone?"

He nodded. " Voo doo doo do voo doo doo do. Picture if you will…" A bright grin and he stuffed the camera into the pocket of his jacket.

Wesker did well to ignore the Birkins and their teasing. "Must have had a crack in it, was just toying with it." On his feet, the blonde dusted a bit of broken glass away.

"Should be more careful what you toy with, Captain." Chris replied, laughing a bit as Brad Vickers clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Hey Brad."

"Definitely more careful what you toy with, Captain. You're bleeding." Jill uttered, a single long digit with nail glazed in white pointed at his hand.

So he was: a cut visible along the flesh beneath his thumb already was welling in sanguine. Albert let out a soft sigh, fetching his own napkin to stop the bleeding. "I'll see if one of the staff can clean this up. Excuse me, I should tend to this." Pausing briefly, he leaned down towards Carmen. The two met in a gentle show of affection, his voice dropping as he assured her of a quick return. Eyes flicked to Jill, he smirked as she looked away. The blonde would not so easily be bested, though she had delivered a devastating blow. Impressive, but he would up the stakes. Even if she had made him bleed.

' _This is just picking the wings off flies compared to where it could lead.'_

Gone in mere seconds, he strode out of the hall. Half of the broken glass remained on the table. A streak of bright red shined on the glass' reflective surface.

* * *

A member of the staff came and went, cleaning up the broken glass. A young woman with bright red hair came and went as well, taking their orders.

"I hope he's alright…" Carmen uttered softly, a vegetarian dish set before her a few minutes later.

William slid out of his chair, empty glass in hand. "I'll go check on him in a bit. Need a refill first."

"I'm sure he's fine." Chris replied, giving his empty glass a little jiggle. The two cubes of ice clanked against the sides of the container. "I'll go with you on that refill, though."

"May have gotten a call from the office, we're always swamped with excess calls the regular department doesn't have the manpower to handle." Jill uttered, smiling at the filet mignon sided with potatoes and string beans. "Thank you."

"There he is." Annette chuckled behind her glass of wine. "Get patched up?"

Taking his seat once more, Albert peered briefly at Annette. "Wasn't a deep cut, should be fine." The appearance of a small adhesive bandage peeked along his hand near the cuff of his sleeve.

Jill's curious stare fell on it, something deeply felt in the sight of something that was so simple for anyone else. He never got hurt, not even a simple paper cut ever seemed to find his long fingers. Everything was according to a meticulous methodology, something she'd noticed in passing. He was so careful in every motion; she often forgot that he bled like everyone else. She'd made him careless. She had truly gotten to him, breeching the frosty tomb and driving only something as small as a pinprick straight through his heart. It made her feel ill…and powerful.

"Earth to Jill, come in Jill." Chris gave her a nudge. "Food is going to get cold."

Gaze dropped to her plate, she cleared her throat. "Sorry, was deep in thought. It's about a crime to do that with a perfect meal in front of me isn't it?"

"Just about, but I'll give you a warning this time. Next time, it'll be a ride downtown." Pearly grin, Chris was already cutting into the meat of his filet.

"You shouldn't eat the bodies of other animals. It's disgusting." Carmen stated, taking a bite out of a steamed zucchini slice.

Albert could only loft a brow, taking a bite from the fish he'd requested.  _'Not touching that one with a ten foot pole.'_

"Oh shit…" Annette said with a snicker and an eye roll, downing the last of her red wine.

Out of everyone, it was Chris that had a question for that. "You're one of those people who don't believe in using rats for testing drugs before humans use them, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. It's wrong to use animals for our needs. We should be respectful of nature."

"Really? Is that why you use make up made with animal fats? Perfume that's made with whale intestine goop so it'll stick to your skin longer? That's what ambergris is. Even the fuel in your car is made from dead animals.

William chuckled a bit, trying to cut the tension. "Poor dinosaurs, right? I don't know how many life-saving drugs have been made using animals for testing first…but it's a multibillion dollar industry that can't kill people."

"It's pretty narrow minded to tell someone how they should live, their habits disgusting, when you expect how you live and see the world to be respected in their eyes."

The table was in awe of the clarity that came from Christopher's mouth.

Very deep for someone that Wesker considered a complete and utter meathead.

"Bravo, Chris. You proved you have a third grade education, and the ability to make a woman feel insecure." Wesker's stare shifted to Carmen, the look on her face nothing but defeat.

"You'd know a thing or two about making a woman insecure yourself,  _Captain_." The glare Redfield shot across the table could have melted metal. It was met by an equal one shot at him by the blonde in black.

Annette cleared her throat. "Boys, play nicely or I'll put you both in a corner."

William nodded. "She'll do it." Baby potato popped in his mouth, he could only grin.

Jill chewed her meat slowly, eyes low. "The meat is good." Only contribution to the conversation, and the only needed to drop the subject entirely.

Carmen was left nursing a wounded ideal, pushing sprouts around on her plate.

* * *

With the meals finished and the cake cut by the happy couple, the floor was soon crowded with couples dancing. In one corner, the band for the evening was set up and already cranking out music. An older crowd, the young singer revived the sounds of the past. Sinatra, Williams, Basie, Jones; their numbers that once entertained under the bright lights of Vegas once again stretched their notes across the expansive hall and ears of every person occupying it.

Brad had decided to join Chris and Jill at one of the small tables left for those needing to sit. "Thought you two would be out there cutting a rug."

"I can't dance except for a slow song doing the 'eighth grade shuffle' and Jill can't stop falling in those heels." Chris covered his face briefly, cracking up after Jill gave him a swat with her clutch. "Oh come on, it was pretty funny after Captain Wesker's date said something about designer clothes being horrible, you fell over trying to get up from the chair."

"Just glad you caught me." Jill grinned, gaze shifted towards the dance floor. William and Wesker approaching, she winced after William snapped a picture right in her face, the flash almost blinding in the low light of the hall. "Oww, my eyes."

"Sorry Jill." William replied from over his shoulder as the pair continued on their way outside. The taller blonde must have said something, as Birkin retorted "That's not very nice!"

Brad shook his head a bit, a grin that could not sink all over his mouth. "Joan and I are heading to J's after this if you two wanted to come along. Enrico and Barry are bringing their wives with. They want to shoot pool and trash talk. The wives want to do karaoke."

"Sounds like fun. You wanna call your girlfriend, Chris?" Jill offered, finishing off yet another lute of champagne. She'd lost count of how many she drank. Whoopsie.

Redfield gave a nod. "Yeah, I saw a pay phone by the door. I'll go give her a call that we're leaving after Joan is done singing. Can just come get my car in the morning." Getting up, he snagged her glass with his own. "I'll get you a refill while I'm at it, drunk butt."

Tongue stuck out at him, she waved him off with a laugh.

"So you two aren't…?" Brad's awkward questions again.

"No, I just didn't want to come here alone…"

"I know how that feels." Vickers' gaze followed Joan as she strolled across stage.

* * *

Cigarette between his fingers, Albert flicked his stare towards William. "I am going to fucking  _kill_  her." There was no debate about just who he was talking about.

"No you're not; you don't even have a gun with you."

Weapon slid from its holster hidden in his jacket lightning fast, Wesker sat it down between them. Samurai Edge, his beloved plaything.

"Okay, you do have a gun." William drank from the straw in his glass of mojito until the most annoying sound in the world to his best friend filled the air between them. A look shot at the scrawny blonde and he stopped. "Just put it away. You're not going to harm her."

"Yes, I am. I have made up my mind that upsetting Spencer is worth it if it means I can put her under six feet of dirt." Weapon holstered once more, irritation riddled his features. "Drags the one man I hate above all others here, who is guaranteed to wreck anything and everything."

"Who cares that he sent your date scurrying home? Not like you were planning on doing anything more than sleep with her for a week before you got bored with it. She was pretty idiotic; she lost three debates to him over simple sociological stances. I liked the abortion one. What did he say? Oh yeah, 'It's wrong to eat a cow but it is okay to scramble your kid. You're a genius, lady.'" William chuckled, idly toyed with the black straw that had been in his drink. Lips puckered, he tried balancing it between his upper lip and nose. That was short lived as Albert reached out and swiped it before twisting it into a crumpled mess left on the glass table between them. "Aww… Why did you do that?"

"You're rather nonchalant this evening. I'd have expected you to be supporting the idea, possibly going to buy me a shovel." A long drag taken from the cigarette, Albert kept his stare on the other man.

To that, William just shrugged. "I like the woman, Albert. Not going to sit here and lie. You're almost alive when around her. I think I've said that before."

Sighing deeply, Wesker flicked a bit of ash on the ground. His expression smoothed over at long last. "For once, it seems I was the one outfoxed."

Will just shrugged. "You know, she only brought Chris because I advised her to."

"Well…then I'm going to kill you."

"You know what I think of that?" Hands dropped, William stared right at him in the dim light.

"What, William?" Blinded by the flash of another picture taken with the disposable camera, he pressed his thumb and index finger against his eyes. "When I can see again… I am going to kill you."

* * *

Outside, the night air was crisp and chilled. The building was adorned with an outside stair case that led up to a sprawling balcony connected to the interior's second floor. Wrap folded tightly about her, Jill stared off towards the city. Lights twinkling their greetings to her eyes, she found herself finally unwinding and calming. Behind her, the sounds of the party droned on.

"Out here alone?" A familiar aged voice sounded against the wind.

Jill turned, a faint smile on her features. "Not now, Mister Spencer."

Ozwell climbed the last two steps, a warm jacket about his aged form and a cigar in hand. "Enjoying yourself? I saw you were out here, thought I'd stop in to see what was on your mind."

The brunette woman shrugged a little. "Just thinking a bit."

"Thinking is the greatest torture in the world for most people." He paused, smiling over to her. "I heard that when I was your age. Still seems to be as true today as it was then."

The old man always did make her laugh, even when she was very small. "I'm thinking about taking some time off to travel during the winter. I just need to get away from all of this for a while. Hopefully my testimony will be done with before the new year."

"Work getting to you?"

"Work, personal life… I just need a break from it all. Therapist says I need a hobby, thought I might go look for one while taking a leave of absence. Mom and Dad used to travel a lot when I was little; I think I saw more of the country between five and fifteen than most ever do."

Ozwell listened, nodding. "I know this great little shop in Seattle that you might be interested in. They sell pianos." Ash flicked, he began to walk away. Stopping short, he looked over his shoulder. "I remember you and your mother used to play when my late wife Anne and I would come visit in Denver. Maybe it's a family talent. Excuse me, Jill. Bit too cold for this old man out here. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Congratulations, Mister Spencer. She's a lovely woman. Good night." Stare returning to the view of the city, it wasn't long until she too needed to return to the warmth of indoors. Shoes in hand, she was tired of walking in high heels.


	20. Chapter 20

 

A final toast to the evening, Spencer stood in the center of the wooden floor. Most of the guests were crowded around in a circle. It gave pause to the men guised in suits bearing Uzis and desert eagles. His protective cadre, the man who was known by many as HUNK stood next to the aged aristocrat. If anyone had a dead look in their eyes, this man was it.

"I never thought I'd live to meet such a wonderful person as my Victoria. I am glad all of you came and I thought we had a good time, right?" Applause all around and the old man lifted his glass. "If you all would raise your glasses with me for one last toast. My father was notorious for this one." After the vast majority joined Spencer, he proceeded. "To our wives and girlfriends. May they never meet!" Laughter broke out, applause once again deafening the room. "Couple more dances, and then let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

The chilly air was hardly kind to someone with bare feet, though Jill finally had enough of her heels until returning indoors. The pair slipped back on, she made her way back through the crowds. So many people, she had no idea how she was going to find the Birkins or even Chris. Pushing past a two couples that didn't know how to make room for anyone, she found herself running into another person. Damn heels, she was lucky the man caught her. "Sorry." She uttered with a laugh, though her expression fell from cheerful to leering as she realized just who had his arms around her keeping her steady. He smelled of someone who scrubbed with good soap and didn't spare expense on cologne.

"Come dance with me." Albert half had to yell in her ear over the noise. The band had already begun the opening number to the next song. Her weak nod was all the agreement he needed to start guiding her through the crowd towards the floor. Passing a few he recognized, all seemed to give him room to move. A commanding presence that Jill had not even begun to fathom, as he pulled her along.

" _Heaven held my broken heart, when I first laid eyes on you…"_ Joan's smoky voice rolled over the hall pleasantly as she turned to the microphone and began to sing.  _"You took my hand and kissed my lips, I wanted nothing but you…"_

Wrap and clutch abandoned on a candle lit table, she soon was drawn into his arms. Fingers folded into his outstretched palm, her free hand found its way below the nape of his neck as he spun them right out onto the floor with all of the others.

" _I've crossed a thousand seas, walked a million roads for you…"_

"I've walked a million roads for you, Netty bear! You look fabulous!" One very drunk William Birkin almost yelled nearby, trying to brush a few strands of blonde behind his wife's ear. "Let's make a baby." He sounded almost like he was trying to conspire with his wife.

"We already did, William." Deadpan and unamused, it was a curious spectacle to see Annette tolerating this scenario. Mrs. Birkin was probably the only one in town who grasped what love really took.

" _You bled me out the day you left…"_

"Is that Jill and Al?"

"Shut  **UP** , Will."

" _I can't take it anymore. I won't stand for it another moment. You're a damned cruel man…"_  The three back-up singers chimed in, keeping the sound whole.

Jill snorted softly. "He must be drunk. He called you 'Al'."

"Jesus…" Wesker grumbled, giving Jill a push outwards, and a twist. Winding her out and tugging her back with a strong grip, he sighed. "So, are you enjoying yourself? Certainly put away enough champagne to down a bull elk." He sounded irritated, steely blue eyes brushing their gaze over her form. The dress was made to be worn on a ballroom floor. He'd noticed that all night. Redfield couldn't dance, and it wouldn't do to let her go home without one.

" _My fall from heaven was for you, though you seemed hell-bent on breaking my wings."_

Brunette strands wild, she only managed to brush them out of her face once their pace settled again. "I have had fun. Watched a beautiful ceremony, dined with my closest friends, had a few laughs..."

" _I'm unafraid…"_ The brunette singer's voice shifted to a mellow tone, a grin from ear to ear on her face.  _"I've thrown out the holy water for bourbon, drowning out the memory of you."_

He made an amused sound, eyes wandering their stare around them. Despite his fury earlier, her presence was quickly wasting it away.  _'Should have known William was behind it.'_

" _You're a damned cruel man…"_

"I think William's plan panned out in the end for me." She peered up to him, cornflower hued eyes bearing snarky tones.

" _You're a damned cruel man and I can't live another day without you…"_

Her perfume was intoxicating in aroma. Rose, jasmine, and vanilla. Something she should always smell like. It made him think of Saturday mornings in the gymnasium beneath the RPD. Her body twisting beneath him as she struggled to break free of the hold, his nose pressed so close to her hair it was almost suffocating. The pent up feelings had to wait until he was safely hidden in his home beneath a cascade of water in the shower. The scent itself had dissipated from his home, making it feel far emptier than if he'd hauled everything out from wall to wall.

' _She shouldn't have worn it…'_  He lied to himself, the idea of her wearing it every day swayed somewhere in the darkest parts of his mind.

"What exactly makes you think it worked?" The hand on the small of her back pulled the woman closer.

She gestured to the bandage still on his hand. "I don't think I've ever seen a crystal glass break so easily at an innocent question."

" _I can't take it anymore. I won't stand for it another moment. You're a damned cruel man…"_

"It was a cracked glass, don't flatter yourself." That door was quick to be slammed in her face. Locking her out was the easiest way to win the verbal duel.

" _I threw out the holy water…"_

"I don't have to flatter myself." She had a skeleton key.

" _Can't drink enough to forget you…"_

"Little arrogant, don't you think?" His tone was flat, blue eyes meeting hers.

" _I'm lying on the floor, bleeding…"_

"Hardly…" She retorted.

" _Over and over…"_

His deadpan expression peering at her was unnerving. "Okay, fine… Why did you want me to dance with you?" She asked.

' _Second guessing yourself? Pity, you've played so well up until now.'_

"You have all the answers, why are you asking me?" He spun her once more, hand fast to her back upon her return. "May as well make you a detective."

" _I just want to drown in you one last time…"_

"I don't have all the answers."

" _Hide my heart from me tonight…"_

"Really? Could have fooled me… To answer your question, I asked you out here…" His voice dropped. "Because I owed you this dance." A snaking palm wandered low then back to the small of her back. "I also was wondering what was under this dress of yours. Seems as though there is nothing."

" _Do what…you want to do…"_

She narrowed her gaze on him.

" _I'll forgive once again…"_

Lips brushed against her throat, he followed through with the motion of turning his head. Relaxed, prepared…

Her pulse skipped. She buried her face against the hollow of his throat, eyes shut.

" _Be my knight, one last time. Be my soul, I cannot loathe. Breathe in me, I'll live again..."_ Hands on the microphone, the young singer let the song flow from her lips to its last note, the final chords playing out around her silence.

* * *

As they slipped away from the dance floor in favor of the second floor's overlooking walkways, he sighed. "That song was terrible."

"I love that song..." Jill replied, wrap and shoes in tow as she walked beside him.

"Irony. As to where Carmen is, your  _ **date**_ saw to it that she left early, or did you forget about him calling her a 'moron'?" Albert dug around his pockets for a lighter, retrieving a cigarette from the pack hidden in his coat as they settled on a spot along the railing. Jill's snickering didn't help at all. "Laugh it up, Jill. You led him here and unleashed him upon this evening like a Black Plague. He's your Achilles in Troy."

She nipped the inside of her cheek, blue eyes drifting towards the light fixtures dotted along the ceiling. "That's mean; I don't recall him dragging her around behind his chariot."

"Sleeping with him?" The idea still gnashed its teeth at his face, despite the evidence that she hadn't. It had only been a week.  _'It's still disgusting. I would have his ass on the street if he dared…'_

"I didn't have to sleep with him to unleash him on the evening. He likes free liquor." Reaching over, she snagged the cigarette from him.

Some relief washed over him. "Redfield sounds like the Kraken." Retrieving another smoke from the pack, Albert lit up and pitched his gaze towards the first floor.

She didn't bother taking a drag, just rolling the cigarette between her slim fingers. "Stop beating up on Chris. He hasn't done anything wrong. I drug him along. It was my doing. You deserved a bit of your own poison. Where did you go, anyway?"

"Colombia." He kept his stare on the floor below, gaze set on the newly married couple looping around on the dance floor. Last song, the party would be over soon.

Jill settled on the rail, white nails clicking against the wood. "Arvada ran to Colombia. It's why all of the court proceedings were put on hold."

"Yes he did…"

Hush clasped the air between them once more.

A chill seemed to wander over her shoulders. "He's dead, isn't he?" She finally asked, peering over to the blonde man.

He hid well behind an emotionless expression, smoke wafting from his lips as he watched the people below.

Turning fully, her brows knit tightly.

"I went with a specialized team down there to try to bring him back. Someone got there before we did. His entire gang was killed in broad daylight. Arvada himself is missing." Silver blued hues met her gaze.

Jill swallowed hard, turning her gaze down toward the people below. Cigarette slipped between her lips, she nearly yacked from the taste of it. The most awful flavor she'd ever tasted in her entire life. A sour look covered her expression as he chuckled. She always did find ways to amuse him by just being herself.

"Smoke the rest of that cigarette so we can leave."

"But it tastes like death and shame." She tried to offer it back with no luck. "Take this! You smoke them! No wonder Irons' breath never bothered you."

"No, smoke it. You took it from me." One digit drew too near to the orange hot ember at the end, his hand jerking to flick it away. A little too strong for his own good, the cigarette was knocked out of what little grasp the woman held to it, and went sailing over the rail. A soft hiss and he compressed the part of his finger licked by the heat. "Dammit."

Both peered over, radiating the same expression as they saw the cig land right in someone's glass of wine.

"Whoops." The blonde's lips twisted in a devious little smirk. "Look what you did, Jill. I think you just ruined someone's night." Sarcastic, snobby and arrogant in tone, he grinned as she gave him a pop across the bicep with the back of her hand. "So violent too…"

"That's Annette…" Jill uttered in a blank tone, doe eyes wide as dinner plates. She hid half of her face behind her palm; bright blue eyes watching the blonde woman lift the glass towards her lips. "Uh-oh…"

"And we're leaving." A hand gesturing towards the stairwell leading to the first floor, his other palm came to rest at the small of her back as they walked.

" _ **WHO DUMPED THEIR DIRTY CIGARETTE IN MY DRINK?!"**_

Even the music stopped.

Albert couldn't help but laugh, the sound so rarely heard and wrong in all the right ways. Favoring the nearest exit on the second floor instead, his hands went for the door knobs leading outside.

"Shhh! Stop laughing! She'll hear you." Jill scolded as her companion opened the glass doors leading to the balcony. Once outside, the pair made their way down the stone stairs leading to the sidewalk that connected the entrance of the building to the parking lot. "Oh, we're in trouble."

"I don't think she saw us." Undoing his tie, the blonde paused in the darkness. As she came up beside him, he leaned in to fuse his mouth to hers. There was no hesitation or resistance, only lips parting and her tongue greeting his. She tasted sweet of the spirits she'd been drinking. It only made him want more. Tasting her mouth was never enough. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He whispered.

A soft moan against his mouth and her hands snaked to the nape of his neck.

"Patience, Valentine." The white stones that were her nails drug down his chest as he pulled away. Despite everything in him coaxing him to stay, he managed to start treading on down the stairs that led the way towards the entrance of the building. Hands slipped into his pockets, he peered over his shoulder to her.

Her gaze met his, chilled breath fogging in the night air.

"Ready to leave?" His question was cut short by the sound of someone calling Jill's name.

"There you are!" Chris' grin could not be sunk as he approached. "We're going to J's. You still in?" His gaze shifted to the captain. "Open invitation, on my tab since I upset your date and she left."

' _Meathead actually feels some guilt? Amazing. Simply amazing…'_

Yet, sincerity was demanded and he begrudgingly delivered with a sigh. "Not entirely your fault, Redfield. She was more or less tagging along to get the story on this wedding. You know how journalists are." It was the most the brunette man could ever possibly hope for a truce between the two of them. Albert's gaze flickered, head tilting to catch Jill's stare.

"Shooting pool sounded like fun." She was already trying to slip her heels on.

"Bet you a dollar she falls on her way to the car."

"No bet." The blonde retrieved a ticket from the interior of his jacket for the valet.

"Both of you shut up. I'm just used to wearing boots every day, that's all."

"Whatever you say, Drunk Butt." Chris said with a wink, waving down Brad.

Joan could be seen not far behind, apparently in some sort of argument with the man most knew as HUNK. Albert's gaze flicked up to the hostile stance the woman bathed in a sanguine evening gown bore as she was speaking quickly and heatedly. Her hands were a flurry of gestures, a look of beyond furious on her face while her faux and gaudy jewelry glittered in the dim light of the building's entrance. HUNK could only watch, toying idly with the toothpick set between his jaws.

' _Well, that's quite a sight.'_

Brad could only look on, sighing heavily before joining Chris and the rest.

' _Interesting… I wonder why a young singer would be talking to Umbrella's pride and joy like he was her dog to kick.'_

Mr. Death's stare flicked towards the group watching, gaze set on Wesker for a brief moment. Though Albert would never admit it, that man even gave him the creeps. Whatever the feud, the tall man dressed in gray just walked off. "There you go! Walk off, it's what you're good at," followed him back inside the building.

' _She called him everything but a kitchen sink and he just walks off? No threat? No show of force?'_

Marching on the sidewalk, Miss Piper was trying to calm the fury. A bright smile as she waved to Brad. "Hey Baby!"

"She's a firecracker. Brad, you dog." Jill commented absently, causing Brad to flush.

"You have no idea, Jill." Chris said with a snicker.

* * *

"There was something I have been meaning to talk to you about." Jill uttered, the landscape of the city whisking past them at forty miles an hour in the midnight black Chevelle. "That case Enrico sent Chris and I down to help with at Memorial Hospital."

"What about it?" Albert kept his stare on the road, brake applied as the light flicked to yellow ahead of them. On the radio there was a hotel in California that was such a lovely place, which the blonde dialed to a low roar.

"There was a symbol drawn on the wall in the generator room. Chris said he thought it belonged to a cult that has a compound in the mountains."

"Dawn of Heaven, they're not to be trifled with. As far as I know, they're the top of the list for suspects in that case."

"I think someone is trying to frame them." Jill blurted out, eyes absently viewing a couple walking their dog while they waited for the light to turn green.

"What makes you think that?" Curiosity filtered its way into his voice.

"The way the eye was drawn in the symbol. I remember when I was little… Dad was teaching me how to draw faces. The eye looked a lot like what he taught me. I went through the files of the old cases against the cult that's supposedly gone clean, none of the other symbols left at the crime scenes even looked like this one. The hand was even different." Finger looping a lock of brunette hair around it, a thoughtful appearance held to her features. "It was eerie, thinking that Dick might have something to do with all of those people dying. He'd have needed help within the RPD to get there though. It makes no sense."

' _Clever girl…Though it was William who got Dick out of the building for an evaluation. Spencer had need for Memorial Hospital to go away. Now they're bankrupt from fines and lawsuits. Sad silly world, isn't it?'_

Deadpan expression written all over his features, Wesker finally tilted his stare towards her. "How could he have? He's in solitary confinement until further notice. Is it possible you were just seeing things? You must miss seeing him on a regular basis."

Somewhere deep inside, her psyche curled over itself, hissing that she was not wrong. Still, her trusting nature won over in the end. "Could have been, I had been working a double shift that day." Gentle shrug, she wilted in the passenger's seat.

Blinker clicked for left, he made the turn, "What would you do if it was your father responsible?" His stare met hers. "There is no way he could have, but indulge me."

Gaze drifted back towards the outside world, she sighed at the night sky glazed against yellow street lights. "Arrest him."

"You'd let him go away forever for such a crime? He's your father." Questioning her loyalties, it was time to know just which side of the tracks she stood upon.

"He would have been responsible for the deaths of over thirty people. Yes, I would let him go away forever. Those people didn't deserve what happened to them. They were helpless to do anything in order to defend themselves. Just exterminated like pests… It's disgusting." A hand running through her brunette hair, she sighed heavily. It had been gnawing at her for some time, the decision with a weight only Atlas could handle. "I don't want to even think about it now."

"Fair enough."

"I'm surprised… You actually want to go to J's?"

There was plenty of truth to her curiosity. J's was a dive at best, hardly a place Andrea Bocelli would ever entertain, but that display by Miss Piper had brought up more than one question to the blonde's mind. He wanted to know just why that little nobody governed enough authority or nerve to speak to the one man who truly felt no fear like a pimp ordering around one of his many whores. "Haven't been there in years, may as well see if the place is falling in." Was enough to quell her questions.

' _Miss Piper…just what is the story behind that?'_

* * *

Barry and Enrico were already knee deep in a game on one of the three pool tables squatting along the western wall as the five walked in. Forest and Edward watched nearby, idly chatting. A red headed girl tilted her stare towards the door, waving at them. Bouncing off her seat, she approached Chris with a wide grin.

"Morgan! Sorry that we're late. Brad drives slower than my grandmother." Strong arms wrapped around the girl, Chris' laugh was as carefree as ever when she pressed a kiss against his cheek.

"That's alright, you look so fancy. Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah, yeah." Turning, he pointed out to the others. "You know Brad, that's Jill and Captain Wesker."

Morgan waved to them, giggling a bit. "Nice to meet you all, gonna go ahead and steal this guy." Without further warning, she was dragging Redfield away to the vintage bar that made J's a place Albert wouldn't quite stick his nose up to.

Rebecca stole Jill in a matter of seconds. She needed someone willing to play pool with her against Ed and Forest, leaving Wesker to his own devices. Joan was behind the bar, despite still being dressed in the same attire she'd worn while entertaining at the wedding. "It's interesting seeing you again, Captain." Her dark eyes left the departing girl in blue and lifted to him as she cracked open two long necks. A sly wink and she grinned like the Cheshire cat.

Albert only needed to narrow his stare for Joan to know she was treading in the wrong direction.

"Johnny Walker. Right." The brunette girl's award winning smile was probably her saving grace in that moment. Ice, glass, and liquor after; she slid the glass over to him with a sigh. "On the house, so long as you don't start frisking people."

A long sip taken from the glass, his lips briefly pursed. The liquor burned wonderfully. "I saw you nearly get into a fist fight in front of the Depot."

"Oh, you saw that? David decided to make the mistake of speaking to me." Tongue rolling along the inside of her cheek, she frowned. "Spencer's dog." Rotating her own glass against the bar, she just shook her head. "I still wish I had never joined up and taken the assignment on Rockfort."

"Oh, come now. We all had fun. Well, you didn't. He liked picking on you quite a bit."

"You only were there for three months. I was there for two years…and I regret ever getting tangled up with that man. Jenna doesn't need to know him." Another glass poured, she sipped it down like spring water.

' _Now it all makes sense…'_

"Pity when a child doesn't know one of their parents." Finishing off the glass, his gaze settled on Chris and Morgan. Redfield was a little less revolting after a stiff drink. "Hopefully it all works out in your favor."

"You as well…" Her eyes lifted to Miss Chambers. "Beers are on the bar, Rebecca." Turning, she carried her glass to the sink at the other side of the bar.

Albert kept his stare on the young woman behind the bar. Joan had not been with Umbrella long enough to realize it was anything more than a good job protecting medicine and expensive research. A talented military strategist, excellent shot, and superb interrogator; she'd been a true loss to the police force after four years of service. Joan loved weed though, and Irons busted her for it. She was still a possible asset, one worthy of being treated with some respect.

Head tilting, he rose from his seat to follow Rebecca back towards the pool table. Glass in hand, he watched in silence.

"Never going to make that shot." Forest grinned, hands resting atop the pool cue he'd been using.

Jill's turn but she was finding that the white ball was parked behind several stripes with no obvious method to reach the others.

Rebecca just sighed. "He did this to me earlier. It's how he wins. He tries to situate them in such a way you have to make shots that put the stripes in pockets to get to your own. Then he just mops the table clean."

"Remember ladies, when you lose… Bikinis while washing our cars."

"It's almost October, Forest. Nutcase." Rebecca glowered, taking a pull from her beer.

"She can make the shot." Albert said from the rim of his glass. "She'd have the game nearly in the bag if she made it."

Valentine's eyes wandered over to the blonde. "There's no way. Even if I broke out of it in the direction of any solids it'd still not work."

"May I?" One lightly colored brow lofted higher than the other.

"By all means." Forest replied. "Not like they're going to win. May as well teach them a trick or two."

A soft yawn and the blonde advanced. Offering Jill his jacket and glass, he began undoing the cuffs of his dark shirt. Rolling the sleeves to just below his elbows, he took the cue from her. "Watch." Approaching the table, he leaned against the side. "Depending on where you hit the ball will determine rotation, direction, and speed. Then you can do this when you have no other options."

Cue gliding through his hands, the blue chalk tip popped near the bottom of the ball, causing it to easily hop over the stripes. Darting across the table, the cue ball struck the blue solid and sent it into a corner pocket before rolling along the edge of the table to nudge the solid violet into the other. "And of course from here, you have the eight ball…" Strolling around the table, he pointed to the unobstructed pocket near the mess of stripes. "It will go in there…" Another perfect shot and the cue was offered back to Jill. "Just make sure when you're making that shot not to also put the cue ball in with it. Always be gentle with the eight." Taking his jacket and the drink, he winked towards the two females before slipping off to ask Joan for a refill.

"We win." Rebecca beamed. "I want my jeep waxed too."

"That's not fair; you had the captain make the shot." Ed was almost pouting.

"Oh, you had no issue with him doing it when you two thought he wasn't going to win it for us!" She barked back.

"Yeah, but he doesn't suck at pool. We thought he might suck at it."

"Well it serves you right for judging him. Shame on both of you." Rebecca grinned.

"Remember the deal, boys. Speedos on Saturday at the car wash." Jill gently set her cue back on the rack. "Hot Pink Leopard print."

Enrico and Barry both looked up at that.

"That's gonna be special. I think I need to go wash my truck this weekend." Barry said, taking a shot on the table. "How about you, Captain?"

"I don't need to see any more chicken legs this year." Enrico grimaced.

* * *

Far past closing time, it was nearing three in the morning. Most of the group had already left, despite Piper's words that the bar was open until she passed out. The six remaining settled on a game of 'Never have I ever' in the small lounging area. Joan changed the seating in the place more often than some changed underwear. The remaining parties had ties loosened, jackets off, heels dropped and hair down at long last. Poison of choice had to be hard liquor for this game. Jukebox set to play the full list, Joan settled on one of the couches next to Brad.

"Rules are simple. You take a drink if you've done the thing the person says they've never done. Alright, I'll start." Joan sighed. "Never have I ever owned a dog."

Everyone else groaned, taking a drink.

Brad was next. "Never have I ever flown with an airline."

Everyone else took a drink.

Chris was next, peering at his drink for a moment. It was time to start getting creative. "Never have I ever had sex with Brad."

Joan scowled, taking a drink. It was cause for a bit of laughter.

Morgan followed. "Never have I ever had sex with a woman."

Every man and Joan took a drink, which resulted in liquor spat out by both Chris and Brad. "WHEN?!" They almost said in unison. She only could roll her eyes.

"Moving on…" Jill peered at her glass for a moment, elbows on her knees. "Never have I ever been out of the country."

Most of the group had to take a drink.

Albert sighed a bit, peering towards the bar as he thought. "Never have I ever paid for sex."

Brad and Joan both took a drink.

Chris about died laughing right then and there when Brad spat out his drink. "Joan, you need to open up more to us. We're clearly not getting the best stories during happy hour."

"I think we all want to hear this story." Wesker smirked a bit, arm stretching along the back of the couch both he and Jill occupied.

Valentine didn't hesitate to lean back against that arm. Long digits brushing against her bare shoulder sent a wonderful chill down her spine.

"Alright, alright. Is it safe to assume that you were saying that you never paid a prostitute for their time?"

"I suppose you could, yes."

"I paid a prostitute in Germany for her time because it was on my bucket list. We ended up going to a movie and eating at a Donor Kebab stand. Her name was Sindy with an 'S'. So skanky, I loved her to pieces."

"That's not paying for sex, though." Chris replied, sighing deeply. "Thought we were going to hear one of these supposed wild and crazy 'Joan Piper: Lady of the Night' stories."

"I bet she remembers Joan still, unlike any man that crawled on top of her and wheezed his way through two minutes of the best time of his life." Jill uttered.

Albert let out a snort, shaking his head. "Such a kind person, Miss Valentine."

Joan's pearl grin was visible even in the dim light. "Alright, my turn. Never have I ever learned how to speak German fluently."

Only Albert took a drink, a couple brows raised.

"Never have I ever given oral."

Everyone just stared.

"That's not something you want to say in this game, Brad." Chris snorted, covering his face with a palm as he began to laugh. Red faced, he wiped away a few tears. "Oh shit, I'd be lost without you in my life Vickers."

"That's changing tonight." Joan polished off the last of her drink. "Anyone else needs a refill? I could go for one." Reaching for the bottle of scotch in the middle, she filled her glass. No ice.

"This is rather educational." Wesker uttered, receiving a slap to the arm from the female to his left. "What?"

Breath relaxing, Chris leaned back next to Morgan. "I've never… Huh, gotta think for a bit. Oh, Never have I ever had a  _'ménage a trois'._ "

Jill's eyes were the size of dinner plates as not only did Miss Piper take a drink but… "What, really?"

Albert merely lifted a single blonde brow after taking a sip from his drink. "What? It was a long time ago."

Chris' jaw about fell to the floor.

"Okay, we heard my paying for sex story. You have to tell us about the threesome."

A deep sigh and Wesker pitched his gaze toward the ceiling. "It was during college, the twins that lived across from me in the dormitories—…"

"Okay, I've heard enough." Jill refilled her glass. "Sounds like the opening of a porno."

"We are spending way too much time together when Captain Wesker is talking about bedding twins." Brad chimed in.

"Were they Japanese?" Chris couldn't help himself and Morgan could help but pinch him for it. "Ow! I'm just curious!"

"Swedish, actually." Stare shifted to Jill, he shrugged. "I was eighteen. Nobody would have passed that opportunity up."

It didn't keep Jill from finishing her glass and refilling once more.

"Alright, my turn." Morgan took it upon herself to keep the game going. "Never have I ever been to a church and a gay bar in the same day."

Joan and Chris both took a drink. Joan's turn to nearly choke.

"Okay Chris, your turn. Why?" Albert asked.

"Joan drank too."

"She was trying to get them to come redecorate the church. Case closed. Why you?" Joan's laughter caused a smirk to break out on the blonde's face.

"It was within a twenty-four hour period… I went with a few friends; we didn't realize we were at a gay bar, just thought the other patrons were very patriotic buying some airmen drinks." Snickers heard all around, Redfield just shook his head. "It was when one guy came up in ass-less chaps asking me to dance that I finally figured out it was time to leave. I went to church because I felt dirty after he gave me his number and a kiss."

"Great story, Chris." Joan snorted.

Jill wiped away a few tears from her laughter, clearing her throat. "Never have I ever farted and blamed it on someone else." Surprise lit up on her face when everyone else took a drink. "Wow."

Chris sighed. "I blamed Brad."

Brad shook his head. "I blamed Rebecca."

Morgan snorted. "I blamed my sister."

Wesker's lips twisted into a grin. "Irons. Mayor was in the elevator between us."

Joan snickered a bit. "I miss the RPD. Oh… Oh yeah, I blamed the dog. Your turn, Captain."

Albert nodded, turning his glass a few times. "Never have I ever accidentally called out the wrong name in bed." Everyone else taking a drink caused a grin to break out on his lips. "You're all terrible."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't have done it on purpose." Morgan chimed in.

"Touché, Miss."

Miss Piper stretched out, legs strewn across Vickers' legs. "Alright, last round and I'm closing up. Never have I ever had sex on my boss' desk."

"Does boss of your boss count?" Chris asked, narrow gazed and fairly tipsy. Wesker's snort was far from quiet.

"No." Joan smirked. "Funny, but no." Her jaw dropped as nobody took a drink. "Wow, none of us are that depraved apparently."

Brad's turn. "Oh, I've got a good one. Never have I ever fooled around in a car and accidentally honked the horn with my butt."

Morgan took a drink, sighing. "It's a bit mortifying when it's not the only car on the hill."

Chris mopped a hand across his face, sighing. "Never have I ever had sex with a blow up doll." Nobody drank. "Damn."

Morgan sighed a bit. "Never have I ever had a sexual fantasy about a teacher." Everyone else drank. "Dirty minds, dirty minds."

"Never have I ever put someone's hand in warm water to see if it'd make them pee themselves in their sleep." Jill snickered as Chris took a drink. "Who was it?"

"Brad."

"I woke up with a bucket on my head and my hand in a dish of water. He and Forest should not be left alone with me while I sleep off a night of partying."

Albert sighed a bit, peering at his watch. Almost 3:30 in the morning, he hadn't been up this late outside of work in years. "Alright, Never have I ever given someone of the opposite sex a fake phone number." Everyone drank again. Shaking his head, the blonde sighed. "Terrible people."

* * *

He'd never taken anyone with him out to the bluffs overlooking the city. It had always been a place that he could escape to. Somewhere nobody could find. She was the first, and the last. In the backseat of that Chevelle, he was young again. Eighteen once more, blonde hair unruly from a night that he never wanted to end. Eighteen and the world was at his feet still.

The collar of Jill's dress was undone, back arched as lips wandered up the pale skin drawn over her spine. Her bottom lip was held between her teeth so tightly, she was sure that the taste of copper was well on its way. Twisting, she began undoing the buttons that lined the length of his dark shirt. Beneath, smooth flesh and hard muscle greeted her touch and stare. That Adonis belt gave her all sorts of wrong ideas as her slim hands ran the length of his waist.

' _So wrong they're right…'_  Mouth meshed to his, she mewled soft as his long and capable fingers found their way under the bust of her dress and rolled over sensitive flesh.

There in the back seat of that car, lust stripped the seams of doubt and frustration away from both of them. Fingers interlaced, lips were bonded when not dotting unseen geometric and senseless patterns over one another. With the light sleeting in from the window, the morning's first hues of sun bathed their forms in dim light while they writhed within the moment, desperate to free themselves of clothing. Feathery touches of fingertips were met by her whines and anxious hands dragging him back to her after the shirt was gone. Nothing but tanned and toned. The blue within his irises held her attention, hypnotic color in the waking light of dawn. Her hands were quick, the belt undone and fly torn open. There were no words of sense, as logic was out the window and in a million pieces on the ground far below, only feral tones left to have any sort of meaning as he pushed into her.

She shattered beneath him, blue dress on the floorboard. He marveled at her form, dotted in freckles. The forearm covering herself was wretched  _aside._  "I want to see everything…" He uttered, voice low in rumble.

One leg swung over his calf, a hand on his shoulder with a shove and she turned the figurative table. The red of morning kissed her curves as Albert's fingers tantalized his senses with stroking the same. Bodies pressed against one another, her lips managing back to his, she took her sweet time with him. Rocking over and over atop, it wasn't long before she claimed that high of reaching the top.

Panting, sweat beading down the muscles lining her spine with face buried against his collarbone, she asked if he… and her mate shook his head that he had not.

It took a bit of maneuvering, but she was no Lilith…and for that, he was grateful. Gentle kisses against the perfect curve of her neck, the blonde savored her taste. Savored all of her…

She breathed, shuddering beneath him.

The white glaze of her nails glinted their radiance upon her fingers as she rose to rest in his lap after, arms looped about the blonde male's neck. Kind lips wandering affection along his neck and shoulder, promises mended and restored to their rightful place. Her eyes lulling shut as his digits strummed against her strands of caramel, exhaustion clipped her wings. Didn't matter, he was cradling her… No need to fly.

Both were eighteen again. If only for an hour.

* * *

Jill's eyes slowly focused, the room coming into focus. Lifting her head, she peered around the room. A hotel room.

Sliding from the bed, she noticed a sheet of paper on the table crammed in the corner of her room. Bedsheets wrapped around, she seated herself.

_Jill,_

_You fell asleep in the car after we left the bar. I'll be in the room next door._

_-A_

"It was a dream." She uttered softly.


	21. Chapter 21

 

Heavy banging on a door is never a nice way to wake someone up at 8:24 in the morning. Not after a night of heavy drinking, that is.

"Housekeeping!"

A groan, escaping the blonde, exhaustion wafted over his senses once more. Buried under a warm comforter, the occupant had no intentions of answering the door.

Another knock, much louder than before. "Housekeeping?"

"It's not funny!"

"Housekeeping! Want me to fluff your pillow?"

"It wasn't funny ten years ago, it's not funny today! Go away!"

Knock, knock, knock! "Housekeeping! Want me jerk you-"

The door swung open, and one very naked Albert Wesker opened the door. He seemed very displeased.

"Off?" William Birkin with eyes the size of dinner saucers stood there, mouth gaping open.

"Sure William!" Albert's face lit up as he extended a hand to invite the scientist in.

"I gotta go." William was quick to retreat down the hallway back to his room.

"Okay, if you really have to..."

The feeling of someone watching overtook, stare shot over his shoulder to a very shocked elderly woman poking her head out of her room.

Flushed cheeks and wide eyed, the woman with curlers in her hair couldn't help but chuckle, managing to wave with a few of her digits.

A deep breath and he acknowledged her. "Good Morning, Madam." As calm as a pond he stepped back into his room and shut the door.

"Fucking William."

* * *

Tuesday, Jill Valentine was sitting in the jailhouse once more. Dick sat across from her, idle chatter on his part. Jill only listened, glad to see her father in better spirits than before. His sentence was being reduced dramatically. Arvada's corpse had been found in the Colombian jungle. A wild animal had gotten ahold of him, or at least that is what the police report from Bogotá said.

Dick might be a free man before his daughter took a husband.

She told him that wasn't happening anytime soon.

He laughed at that. It was always good to hear him laugh. It made her feel alive again. Alive, the way she was before Raccoon City.

It eventually came up in conversation, Dick's voice lowering to a whisper. "One of the inmates told me that you need to look out for Brian Irons. He has…secrets. Watch your back around him, Jilly Bean."

"I have been, Dad. I've evaporated into S.T.A.R.S. and he doesn't even know I exist."

"That's good. How's Albert? I haven't seen him since I transferred here."

"He's fine… He's really busy these days."

"As smitten as you were with him when you were 18, I'm surprised you haven't tried… you know." He grinned as she made a face. "Don't try to fool your old man, I remember how much you adored him."

"I was a teenager, Dad."

He looked like he had more to say, but their time was up for the day. A gentle embrace and a simple goodbye followed.

She broke down in her car outside with the engine running. The crest on her beret glinted harshly in the sunlight. Marlboro between her fingers, she just let the tears run until the death stick was hot between the digits. Too much to digest in one day.

* * *

Friday, just another late night at the RPD. Jill aimlessly wandered down the halls of the first floor; flashlight's rays flicked over the darkness that previous encompassed one of the doors. She gave the doorknob of the mahogany access to the clerk's office a twist, finding it locked. Checking locks was part of the 0230 patrol, as the captain had informed her when she returned early.

" _I know it's as boring as watching paint dry, but we're the only two here tonight. Just get it done."_

She sighed heavily. Another door checked and she was rewarded with the usual clatter of a secured entryway.

' _Why did Dick warn me about Irons? It's no well-kept secret that he's a disgusting moron.'_

It was something in her father's voice…

Jiggling the knob of another door, she found it locked as well. Footfalls echoing down the hallway, she flicked her flashlight across the empty passage ahead of her. The building was old, holding all of the characteristics and charms of once being an art gallery. Yet, this charm came with a price of being equally haunting to one roaming it alone in the dead of night.

The wind clapped a tree branch against a nearby window, and howled its wordless voice against the night.

' _Spooky ghosts and monsters that go bump in the night. Yeah, right. Grow up, girl.'_

Last door checked. Locked, like all the others.

' _Alright, enough playing around… It's time to get a few answers.'_

* * *

"Oh, come on you old lock…" Three tumblers in a row.  _'Just call me Brian'_  Irons' door was about as much of a joke to the seasoned thief as the man himself. "Just like that..." She cooed, slipping into the office. Door carefully closed and locked from the inside, her blue doe eyes peered at the room in the dimmed light. Stowing the lock pick and tension wire in a cargo pocket, Miss Valentine began to survey her surroundings.

The room was quite lavish for police work, stone and antique wood lining all of the walls. Books, hunting trophies, the official colors of the police department next to an American flag, and an assortment of taxidermy victims all caught her attention. The raccoon stood out most to her, his banded eyes staring at her. The ring tailed thief of the animal kingdom: a trophy in the office of a police chief. Was he trying to warn her away or was she just being paranoid?

' _I shouldn't be here…'_

Gaze lifted to the rest of the room, she hadn't noticed anything as far as alarms. Perhaps the chief felt safe nestled so far in the police station...

Approaching the desk, her eyes narrowed at the sight of three square stones. Each was a distinct color: one blue, one red, one yellow. Lifting the red one in her hand, she examined the serpent stenciled on its surface. Well-crafted item, though it was so out of place. Who was she kidding? The entire room was out of place for a cop shop. She set it back on the desk gently.

' _What on earth could that go to?'_

She picked up the yellow stone; an eagle was stenciled on it. Peering at the stuffed eagle on the shelf across the room, her gaze turned to follow its own dead one.

Chair gently pushed aside, Jill examined the painting that sat behind it: a swirl of reds, yellows, whites, green and what appeared to be a woman. Abstract art was never really her strong suit. Fingers gently ran over the canvas and along the bottom of the painting. She felt the outline of an old switch near the center of the bottom. Flicking it, the brunette gave a small jump as the painting jerked and slid to the left.

"Shit, that scared me." She softly muttered. Brows knitting, she finally fished out her flashlight. Three holes embedded in what looked like an Aztec style depiction of a sun, a plain, and a jungle. A glance cast back to the three stones on the desk and she frowned.

' _ **He has…secrets.'**_

"What were you trying to tell me, Dad?" Snatching up the yellow stone, she carefully inspected the three holes. "Well… eagles fly." The stone slid easily into the crevice.

"And…snakes are usually captured by eagles…" The red stone slipped right into the second hole.

The distant sound of voices caught her attention.

' _Oh fuck.'_

Jill quickly yanked the two stones from the holes. Dropping them on the desk, the blue stone tumbled helplessly to the floor. It split into two on impact.

"Oh no," was all she could manage to choke out. One voice outside the door, someone was fumbling with a key.

* * *

"And that's when I told him, 'Bertolucci, you will print what I tell you to or you'll never get a quote from me again!' And then he says to me—"Door swinging wide open, Brian Irons stepped in. Not far behind, both William and Wesker strode in after.

"Could you just spare us this ridiculous story? I really don't give a fuck about your feud with that idiot editor." William's sour tone was rather loud.

Loud enough to be heard by a woman taking cover in the shadow of a very large stuffed feline in the adjacent hallway.

Brian drilled his stare at the scruffy and shorter blonde man. "What is your problem, Birkin? Every time I see you these days you seem to be constipated."

Wesker let off a snort.

"My problem? Well, let's start with this." Striding across the room to the police chief's desk, William scooped up two pieces of the blue jaguar stone. "Broken. Irreplaceable and it's part of the key that opens the door to the only convenient way to the sewers without getting shit all over my shoes."

Irons paled as he laid his eyes on the broken stone. "That was on my desk when I left. I gathered them all up because I knew you needed the passageway tonight. Someone must have dropped it."

One of Albert's lightly colored brows lifted. "Who could have done it, Brian? Nobody comes into your office without you here."

As Wesker approached and took the two pieces from him, Birkin's rant continued. "You probably dropped it while shitfaced, like you always are. Why the hell Spencer keeps you around makes no sense."

"Keeps me around? Hah! I've played my role for years… Long before either one of you were doing more than wiping down lab tables." Pointing a finger at Birkin, he continued. "If anyone should be exterminated it's Valentine."

William's face hardened at that.

Jill's eyes widened from her hiding place behind the stuffed tiger in the hallway connected to the office.

Wesker ignored it… because he was Wesker. Getting to the sewer far outweighed the importance of arguing with a sack of lard that wasted oxygen.

Irons reached over his desk, fishing out a bottle of bourbon from the drawer most of the RPD referred to as the 'mini bar'. A long pull and the overweight man wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. "I did some checking up on Mr. Valentine. You know what I found? He knew about Arvada's feud with Spencer. He was seeking refuge from Umbrella for himself and that little bitch daughter of his. He tricked Captain Wesker here and Spencer into taking her in."

Sliding the broken halves of the stone into place, Wesker reached for the sanguine colored serpent stone. He had nothing to contribute to the conversation.

"He provided them with the…what's it called? The Flower of Heaven?"

Behind the portly man, Albert gave a roll of his eyes.

William was nearly floored. "'Flower of Heaven'? You mean pot? That's a slang name for pot. You're accusing him of giving them marijuana?" Birkin was beyond irritated at this point. "Irons, you're a fucking idiot. Umbrella doesn't even harvest hemp for raw materials. Why would Dick Valentine give them weed? Was he stealing Spencer's personal stash of 'slammin' and crunk' weed and giving to Arvada to get 'blazed'? Did he do all of this while wearing 'ice'?" William even did little air quotes.

The blonde, sporting a pair of shades on top of his head, chuckled softly behind the pair, sliding the eagle stone into place. "If he really was stealing weed, why weren't you on the case? You still have the power of arrest. You could have swiped one of the dogs from the K-9 unit, and Dick Tracy'd all over Denver."

William flipped through a few papers he had on his clipboard "Arvada was Colombian too; he probably was already graduated to cocaine like a real man."

"Irons are you mentally handicapped or do you just try to piss us off for fun?" The secret passage revealed, Wesker slid towards the corridor. "Either way is fine, I'm just vaguely curious. It's like watching someone trying to cure cancer with a potato every time you talk." He disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.

Sliding the painting back in place, Brian's red face could not contain his rage. The pair of blondes always treated him like he was lower than dirt. "He was up to something. When I find the evidence, you both will eat crow. I'll be sure to take that slime ball's hands for a trophy while I'm at it."

William about gave himself a hernia from laughing. "Yeah, we'll be waiting with bells on for all of that to happen." Following after Irons through the passage way, he ducked under the door sliding down to shut.

Jill let out a sigh of relief, head resting against the tiger's neck.

* * *

"Speaking of Valentine… Isn't his daughter on shift tonight?" Brian asked. Penlight clicked on as he led the way, he cast a glance to the tallest of the trio.

"She is." Wesker's normal monotone voice returned at the question. "She's converting all of the reports to digits by now. I sent her to patrol a couple hours ago."

At that statement, all three stopped in their tracks at the entryway to the sewer.

"You sent a thief's daughter to inspect the doors…"William began.

"…and the jaguar stone was found broken." Irons finished with. He darted his gaze to Birkin. "I told you that I didn't break it!"

Radio unclipped from his belt, the tallest blonde sighed. "I'm still putting money on you being a careless nitwit." Clicking the transmission button, he sighed. "Valentine, report in." Static filled the air as the captain waited.

Skeptical looks appeared on the other men's faces.

' _No, don't do this to me…'_

"Valentine, report now or—"

A voice cut in on the radio. "Valentine, reporting in. I read you loud and clear, Captain."

A deep sigh escaped William. "See? She's not sneaking around: just busy as hell and ignorant like everyone else."

Snatching the radio right out of Wesker's hand, Irons was not ready to let go of this. "Officer Valentine, this is Chief Irons. Where have you been? Why didn't you check in with your Captain as soon as you were finished patrolling, over?"

There was a long silence on the other end, only the sound of static filling the air.

A smug looking Brian Irons peered at the S.T.A.R.S. captain, so certain that he'd caught the woman.

Wesker just looked bored.

She finally replied. "Chief… I was having lady issues. I've been in the women's restroom. Over."

The look on Brian Irons' face: absolutely priceless.

William barely was able to keep it all in from behind his clipboard.

Taking the radio back, Wesker just shook his head. "At ease, Valentine. Take care of what you need to. There is no rush, we're here until 0800. Wesker, over and out."

"Thank you, sir. Valentine, over and out."

Radio returned to his webbed belt, Albert looked to Brian for an explanation. He was coming up empty for that it seemed.

"I just… Maybe I did drop it." Feeling like a heel, the aged man scratched at the top of his head.

Birkin's tired blue eyes watched the two from behind his clipboard. He stole a glance at his watch for a time check.

Deadpan in expression, Albert's voice was nothing short of furious. "I think you're watching too much fucking 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit' before you go to bed, you colossal imbecile." Wesker cut between the two to head into the sewer. "And we're fifteen minutes late now. Just terrific work,  _chief_."

Irons didn't go any further; he wasn't welcome beyond guarding an entrance to the underground labyrinth Umbrella reigned over.

* * *

William was quick to catch up and spoke as softly as he could muster over the sound of rushing water. "Do you think she…?"

"I don't know, but we'd better not take a chance…" Wesker uttered in return. "We do this your way, William… Starting now."

* * *

On the other side of the RPD, Jill crouched next to the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office. Gasping for breath heavily, she wiped away the line of sweat from her forehead.

' _What the hell is going on?'_


	22. Chapter 22

 

_Theme: It's Only -ODESZA_

* * *

Annette watched the boys from her vantage point near the ladder leading up into the chemical plant from the sewer system. One heeled shoe dangling from her foot, her toes swished the footwear in boredom. Hot coffee in one hand and a Virginia Slim in the other, she alternated between the two. The fair-haired woman watched with great interest as William and Wesker stood close and spoke as softly as either could manage. Being left out was quickly becoming boring, so she announced her presence. "You two realize that you do this every time one of you has made a terrible mistake, right? The huddling like you're on a two man football team."

Both looked up, and both sighed.

"Irons thinks Miss Valentine is snooping. He's probably just drunk again. He's becoming a liability." A hand reaching into his vest, Wesker pulled out a keycard.

Annette's appearance didn't move out of its passive tone. A single trimmed and lightly colored brow lifted as she took a sip of coffee. "Interesting how an alcoholic lays the blame on everyone but himself. She's an obedient puppy."

William ran a hand through his hair. "It seems a little odd. Irons usually guards those three keys like they're his illegitimate children. Even if she did, it could be a sign she's ripe for work. We wouldn't have to wonder these things if someone had just done what comes naturally to him…"

Annette flipped her stare from her husband to the man who she affectionately thought of as a brother. "Albert, I am so proud, and at the same time, so disappointed in you… I thought after the wedding you felt threatened enough by that cute Redfield boy to mark your territory. Having troubles rising to the occasion?"

Annoyance smothered what was normally a blank expression on Wesker's face. "She was too far gone for consent…The last thing I need is to be considered on the same level as Brian Irons."

"What a gentleman." Smoke rolling from her red lips, Mrs. Birkin grinned. "I'll forgive you this time."

"It may be cause for concern…" William was hardly helpful at the moment, a hand scratching at the stubble lining his jaw.

Flicking the remnants of her cigarette into the sewer water's slow current, the wisp of smoke blew free of the woman's nostrils. "Don't fret yet, husband. It's not too late for someone to shamelessly throw themselves at her…" Annette's expression softened as she spoke.

"You're absolutely right, Annette. She's in the office. Tell us how it goes." Albert's bright smile showed every pearly tooth he could manage to bear.

The blonde woman narrowed her eyes at him. The only other time Wesker had witnessed that look was from a cat that clawed him moments later.

"I don't think she's going for it." William muttered as he leaned in, darting his gaze between them. "Smile wider."

* * *

Entering the office, the S.T.A.R.S. captain quietly closed the door behind him. A quick trip to the men's restroom beforehand, he'd scrubbed himself raw. The scent of the sewers was never pleasant and it seemed to stick to everything.

"Valentine, I need your report from last week." Wesker smirked as the dozing brunette jerked awake at her desk upon hearing his voice. "Try to stay awake too."

"Sorry, sir..." One hand rubbing at her eye, Jill began firing up her computer with the other. " I emailed it to you last week."

"I don't have it. Send it again, if you would be so  _kind_." The edge on his voice was sharp as he stepped into his office.

"I will, sir."

Silence shrouded the room. She felt anxiety rising the longer she was alone with her thoughts. What on earth was going on? Why did Irons have a secret passage in his office? Dick may have inadvertently led her to something bizarre.

' _What were they up to? Why was William here? Why would Irons accuse Dad of working for Arvada against Mister Spencer? That makes no sense! They're close friends.'_

The printer at her desk suddenly roaring to life caused her to jump, her heart nearly leaping from her chest. "Jesus." She hissed, turning back to her computer. "Forgot he can print from anywhere…" She mumbled.

The blinds never flicked open; Captain Wesker simply stepped out of his office and toward her desk. His vest was missing, revealing the front of his deep blue shirt. His reach over her left a whiff of his cologne for her nose to catch. "Miss Valentine, may I request in the future that you refrain from sentences that are two paragraphs long? I would expect it from Redfield."

Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried not to laugh, and nodded. Chris had typed up the report for her while she had run off to lunch last week. "Of course, sir."

Snatching the report from the tray, he peered over it for a final look. "Your cooperation is always appreciated, Miss Valentine." Setting the report in front of her, his long fingers rested on the face of the page. "Please look over it one last time, read the fine print before signing. You are under oath, but of course you knew that. Bring it to me when you are done."

Her mind was completely numb; she was in the back of a tiny theatre in her head watching her own life. "Yes…sir." Skimming through the report in silence, the white stones of her nails clicked against the top of her desk. The clock on the far wall ticked away. "Can't wait to go home…" She uttered in the silence, reaching for the jar that held her assortment of pens.

"Valentine!"

Jill jerked, elbow hitting her stale cup of coffee. Mocha liquid splattered her desk, the computer tower, and the report. She could only look on in horror as the computer made a very angry noise and the monitor went black. A heavy sigh and her head dropped between her shoulders with a sag as smoke began to appear from the back of the computer.

' _Well shit.'_

"Valentine, I swear to  _GOD_  if you copied Redfield's report…" Standing in the middle of the office, the captain was at a loss for words. Jill and desk, covered in what looked like coffee. The smell of burning electronics wafted to his senses after a spell and a sigh hissed from his throat. "Christ." His hand slicked back his hair. An old habit.

"Computer is fried. I need to print the report again." She was doing her best to mop the coffee off the top of her desk. Doe blue eyes lifted to look at him. She was defeated. "I'm sorry."

He ignored the apology. "Did you have Redfield write your report for you?"

Silence on her end.

"Answer the question, Jill."

A sigh and she leaned back in her chair. "Yeah, I did. I missed lunch and Chris said he'd type it up for me so I could get it in on time." Hands running over her face, digits drew circles against her forehead. Tension headaches always seemed to find her when she was anxious.

"Yet, you still managed to not get it in on time." There was something floating under the surface of his voice. Amusement at the irony of it all?

"I'm just that talented." She tossed off the beret that was on her head. A few strands of brunette needed taming from her small and slim palms.

"I'll print it off in my office, then. No more allowing Christopher to do your work for you. You sound like an idiot on paper after reading that, and we both know that you're not. How do you expect to rise to captain if you sound like you eat crayons on a regular basis?" He disappeared once more behind a curtain of blinds.

' _He thinks I can be a captain?'_

She let out a sigh of relief, a hand straying to the cargo pocket on her right side. She could feel the outline of a pick still there.

' _I need to see what was beyond that door before I go see Dad again.'_

"Miss Valentine, I need you in here…" He could hear the squeak of her chair and the muted sound of her boots on the floor as she crossed to the doorway of his back office.

Once she appeared, he leaned back in his chair. Hands behind his head, he could only twitch a smirk towards her. "I don't know where you keep the file under your settings."

"Oh." Respite felt and she approached his computer. Typing in her identification, she began searching for the folder. She felt like she was under a microscope.

It was no wonder either, his stare remained fixed on her face the entire time.

She quickly found the file and hit the print button. His voice stopped her in her tracks as she was leaving.

"Miss Valentine, I apologize if Chief Irons offended you. He found something broken in his office after he came back earlier. He accused you of breaking it somehow. I'm not entirely sure why he'd come to that conclusion. Are you feeling alright?" Gold pen rolling between surgeon's fingers, his bare face held an expression she'd never seen before: genuine curiosity.

Poker face thrown on, she lifted a brow. "I'm doing better, sir. I… couldn't have been in his office. I was—"

"In the women's restroom, I am aware. I just wanted to apologize. You shouldn't have to be subjected to his outbursts. That's my job. My pay grade is that which he should be yelling at, not you. You're one of my officers, my responsibility for better or worse."

' _Be careful.'_

Her lips contracted into a smile. "Thank you, Captain."

Climbing to his feet, the six foot man picked up his keys. "You're welcome. I'll be back in a moment. I believe I left my badge in my car." Chest brushing against her back as he slid past her, a palm briefly rested on her shoulder. He was a snake with a phantom's bite. She didn't even feel the venom that came with his touch.

The exception being those impulses she strangled beneath the surface.

* * *

Dim rays that the moon cast into the glass of the entrance's double doors shifted as one door was opened. Wesker made his way toward the parking lot, the sound of the door shutting following after. The only company he had aside from the night was the sound of his own boots on the ground.

' _I pushed her away, she pushed toward me harder every time… Annette and William supplied the fuel to keep her trying. Now, all I need is an opportunity.'_

He found that opportunity easily. Jill had a bad habit of leaving the door to her car unlocked. Back hatch lifted, the ray of his flashlight illuminated the mechanical components within.

He wondered how long it would be until she confessed her late night prowling to him.

* * *

Alarm streaked across the woman's face as Jill tried to turn the engine over. "Oh, June Bug… Not now." Not even a sputtering attempt to crank. Gas pedal pumped, she tried and tried to get the old car to start. Palm slamming the steering wheel, she was about to her breaking point. Raw nerves on top of exhaustion were a cocktail for disaster. "Shit…"

The patrol guys were on the other side of the station, and none of them were mechanics. She silently prayed to unseen deities for Forest Speyer to magically fall out of the sky with tools and beer. Head resting on the steering column, a pitiful groan filled the cabin of the car.

' _One crazy night leading into a cloudy and terrible morning.'_

A gentle knocking on the driver's side window brought her back to earth.

Wesker's hand retracted back to the pocket of his cargo pants once she rolled down the window. "Car troubles?"

"Yeah…" Defeat rang through her voice while the white stones that were her nails shoved brunette strands back. "Battery might be toast; none of the lights even come on." Slim fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a sigh of frustration. "I can't win."

"Come on, Miss Valentine. I'll give you a lift home. If anything, Speyer would probably be thrilled to swing by later and try to fix it." Once she had stepped out, he led the way back to the midnight black Chevelle.

"Forest is the president of my fan club, I'm sure he would." Her voice was exhausted, a true detriment to her usual sense of humor.

In the car, she leaned the seat back as far as possible. Beret dumped over her face, she sighed heavily.

* * *

The car ride was mostly silent. She dozed; he barely listened to the talk radio station droning on about politics. As the car made a right turn onto Mina Street, the storm clouds darkening overhead opened up. A thorough spatter of rain and the wipers were flicked on. In a few minutes, the storm was dumping buckets.

' _Can you really go through with this?'_

He was having all sorts of doubts. Suspicious of her suspicions now.

' _It isn't like you to second guess yourself…'_

He ignored that.

' _You're afraid…'_

He ignored that too.

' _You're afraid of what she could do to you. She couldn't change your mind…just your heart. Or has that happened already? Pity…that would mean you wouldn't be buried inside your own husk like it was a tomb for a corpse.'_

Clicking the turn signal, he favored staring at the green arrow flashing.

' _William was right, she is perilous.'_

* * *

Pulling in the driveway of her new residence, the blonde put the car in park. "You're home." The sudden need to put as much distance between himself and her was rattling him to the core. He almost was repulsed. By her. By himself. By the very fate that had brought them into each other's lives.

A yawn and she slid the seat up, beret dumped right into her lap. "Thank you for dropping me off, Captain."

Sunglasses pushed up, two fingers grazed along his nose. "You're welcome, Valentine. I'll see you on Monday."

She wasn't ready to get out just yet; her hand hadn't even gone to the door handle. "Can we talk?"

His hand dropped from the shifter to his lap. Head tilted toward her, she had his full attention. "I suppose, but please make it quick. I'm very tired." Wesker looked every inch of worn out as he leaned back against his seat.

"After the wedding… Did we…?"

Albert's face locked solid, a frigid mood overtaking. His aching body was already screaming for rest. Unfortunately for the cute little thing in the passenger seat, Brian Irons had gone through every single one of his nerves for the twenty-four hour cycle. He had nothing left to give and this urge to recoil was not helping. "Miss Valentine, can  _ **this**_  please wait? I am absolutely exhausted. That conversation is going to take some time."

A tired smile slid over her lips. "You don't have to leave. I don't want you to go." A hand gently slipped to his arm, nails tracing over the S.T.A.R.S. patch on his sleeve. Her tough was the spark, a flame darting around inside of him.

' _She's even inviting you? How sweet of her.'_

An unreadable gaze on his part met the sight of her hand on his uniform. The only sound in the cabin was that of the rain pouring outside and the occasional squeak of the wipers.

"I can't." Something in his voice strained. His hand lifted to the shifter, putting the gear in reverse. "Have a good weekend."

For once, she just shook her head. No arguments, no attitude, no attempt to persuade him. Brunette strands pushed back, she donned her beret. "You too," she replied in the quietest tone. Door swung open, she climbed out. She didn't bother watching him leave. Climbing the steps, she realized too late that she must have left her keys in his car after turning out both of her pockets.

' _Shit…'_

Turned about, the black car was long gone. Just an all-around rotten morning for Jill, it seemed. "Wait a minute…" Fingers digging into the cargo pocket lining her thigh, she drew out the pick and tension wire. It didn't take long to form the tension wire straight and get to work breaking into her own house.

* * *

She'd needed a distraction. What better way than to start digging through the past? Picking her nails against one another, Jill's haunting blue stare rested on an open and squatting trunk in the middle of her living room floor. Damp hair from an earlier shower was pushed behind her ears as she absently wandered through her thoughts. The shirt she never returned to the good captain hung over her shoulders, flannel pants warming her crossed legs. Poor circulation made for chilled toes.

' _Nine years since she passed away. I haven't gone through this since then.'_

Seated with legs crossed on the plush white carpet, she took a deep breath and reached inside the trunk.

Amid the assortment of stolen trinkets, burglar tools her father had crafted for teaching, and dog eared photographs; she dug around in search of something. The only sound aside from her rummaging was the gentle tick of her grandfather's old clock that hung on the far wall.

"Where is it?" Jill shoved a pile of pictures aside. "There you are." Long fingers tugging a small red box out, she dusted the lid with her free hand. She held it like it was made of glass. Opening it, she was blessed with the sight of an old necklace. It wasn't just any necklace; it had been her mother's favorite. A bizarre gift her mother had received for her birthday once upon a time. The coin pendant was in the shape of an elongated octagon. In the golden plated center was her mother's name: Patricia. Turning the pendant over, Jill's eyes read the engraving on the back plate:

" **HAPPY BIRTHDAY! ALL OUR LOVE! MAOES."**

' _I never knew what 'MAOES' stood for. I think it's Latin. I remember Mom hated that I played with this all the time. She thought I'd break it.'_

Removing the necklace from its box, she flipped it over a few times with the pads of her fingers. Pressing her thumb on the back engraved plate, a shaft of metal jetted from the bottom. Two shorter ones sprung from the side, giving the appearance of a key. Allowing the trick coin pendant to rest in her hand, Valentine felt an undeniable emptiness as she stared at it. Thunder rolled outside against the sound of rain in the darkening twilight of the day.

' _I wish you were here.'_

A teardrop staining over her mother's engraved name caught her off guard. Jill hadn't even realized she was crying.

A gentle knocking at the door brought her back from inside of herself. Pendant back in the box and trunk slid back under the coffee table, she wiped away the remaining tears that were trying to make their way down her face. Bare feet carried her to the wood flooring that led to the front entrance.

Opening the door, a brief expression of surprise was followed by confusion. "Captain, I thought—"

Drenched in rain, Wesker rested a hand against the doorframe while the other went to his trench coat. Keys drug from the pocket of his black coat, Albert held them out to her by their ring.

Felix the Cat strung on a chain smiled his goofy grin at her next to her house key.

"Missing something?" As soon as she took hold of them, he slicked his wet hair back. "Monday seemed a little too long to be waiting to get into your house."

"Oh, I keep a spare hidden. Thank you." She lied, arctic eyes surveying his face.

The droplets of rain glistened in the light pouring over his face where they clung to his skin, a few strung on the gold leaf of his lashes. He was almost ethereal. He wasn't moving either.

She had expected for him to leave immediately. It took a moment for her to form a sentence. "Come in, you're soaked." Shutting the door after him, her hands went to her bare arms trying to warm them. "The weather station said that this might turn into an ice storm."

Trench coat stripped off and hung with a few other coats, the blonde tugged the hem of his turtleneck's sleeve to his wrist. "I saw that too." Following after her into the rest of the house, Albert's gaze wandered. It was a far cry from his own home. The overhead lights were off, only lamps throughout the house illuminating warm yellow light. Vases full of faux flowers, trinkets tucked everywhere, and soft colors. A faint floral scent dappled in apples wafted. Definitely a woman's touch had graced every inch of her home. His face was unreadable, eyes a thousand expressions and impressions with each of their clicked movement.

Jill had wandered into her kitchen. The sound of glasses clinking and running water all he needed to hear to know where she was. "Was there something else you needed, Captain?"

He'd stopped at one of the paintings on the wall, admiring the coloration. Paris, the iconic tower in the distance, a glow of lamps along an autumn street. In the corner, he noticed the distinct 'PV' artist signature. Patty's work. Some part of him wondered how much the girl missed her mother. He'd never known his own, or their fates. He'd met Patty a few times, back when she worked as a secretary in the main office for Umbrella. She was wickedly sarcastic. One of the few people that could boast she'd made him laugh openly with her dark humor. Reflections of her were still breathing in Jill, even if only echoes. "No, I only needed to return your keys. Are you expecting someone?"

"Uh… No?" She paused a bit. "Just, didn't know if there was something else on your mind."

Taking a seat in her surprisingly spacious living room, Wesker glanced to his watch. "You did say that you wanted to talk." A family portrait silently greeted him on an end table. His stare met hers as she walked in and handed him a filled glass of amber colored liquor. One sip and Albert lifted a brow. "So, I'm here to talk. I think a question for a question is a fair trade."

Jill stretched out on the other end, feet between them on the couch. A bottle wrapped in blue labeling was sat between the cushions. "Okay." She peered at her own glass before taking a swig. "Dad's  _Pappy Van Winkle_  looked sad on the shelf."

A soft snort escaping the blonde, he sighed. "So, you asked me if we…?"

"Sex," She just cut to the chase and chased the word with the rest of her drink.

"No. You were sound asleep before we even got back to the hotel. Didn't you read the note?"

Jill nodded; tongue running against burning on the roof of her mouth. A glance was strayed at the empty glass in her grasp. "I did, I was just clearing the air. I had a weird dream. It was a pretty wild night."

"What sort of dream?" Arm stretched across the back of the couch, he caught a glimpse of her red face and sinking into the couch on her end. "Oh." His blue eyes released her in favor of the dark screen of her television. "That sort of dream."

She didn't have a direct reply, only uncorked the bottle. A small portion in her glass, she sank back against the cushion of the arm. "Yes… and you said this was question for question. You asked two."

"Oh dear, I did." Sarcasm snaked through his voice as a pearly smile leered at the edge of his mouth. "You caught me, officer." Her toes pressing against his hip and he snorted. "Fine, Miss Valentine. What is it you wish to ask? I'm just dying to know."

"That's three now."

"Three?"

"Four."

Fingers sliding through his hair once more, the man sighed. "Will you just ask the question?"

"Five." She was laughing as a palm and digits rested against his brow. "Why did you kiss me?"

"You dreamed that too." The blonde's flat tone didn't match the curl of his lips or the cruel laughter in his eyes.

"Sure I did." She sipped on her drink, thoughts worming through her mind.

"Anything else?" The empty glass was set on the coffee table.

"Why are you here tonight?"

"I was returning your keys and you wished to talk. We went over this already. Are you drunk?"

Her shoulders rose and fell. "It could have waited until after the storm." Her evaluating pools of blue were unconvinced of his intentions.

"I didn't realize charity was such a bizarre entity in your realm of reality." His stare twitched, catching her movement out of the corner of his eye. The word 'Captain' on her back stared at him until she was out of sight. "That's a nice shirt." His words followed her back into the darkened kitchen.

' _That shirt has had more breasts pressed again it than I have. I will never understand every woman's fascination with it.'_

"I know it is." She returned only to pause next to him with a wince, one hand briefly pressed against her flank. Surprise overtook as she felt an unfamiliar and warm touch creeping under the shirt to where she ached.

His thumb traced out an unseen circle where the knot hid. He was gentle but bold, rising to tower over her.

Pulse battering her heart in its cage, Jill felt so very naked under his gaze. She stood small in his shadow, a familiar look scribbled all over her face. There was no way to camouflage the fire he'd set ablaze. Her heart was a filthy, wanton, and terrified little thing. So full of life, so full of want. Its reflections waxed and waned in her eyes.

He could see it too. "Are you afraid of me, Jill?" The question was accompanied by his free hand cradling her jaw. His voice was as quiet as a grave.

"Yes…" The truth shook right out of her mouth as a whisper.

Daring closer, his face was mere centimeters from hers. Mouth so near her she could feel his breath. It rouged her lips dark. "Yet, you still want this. Don't you?"

"Yes." She swallowed hard. The wolf in her rattled its cage.

"Good." Leaning in, his mouth fused to hers. For such a cold man, his mouth and peppermint breath were both hot. Searing enough to leave a memory of him on her skin. Tongue bathing hers, the blonde tasted all she had to offer. He tasted her lips, her mouth; even her breath didn't evade him. It was far more than he recollected from previously, nearly able to steal the air right out of him.

He could taste something familiar under the flavor of alcohol—that strawberry sweet that she occasionally was sucking on while thumbing through endless amounts of paperwork. It made him think of other things between her lips. From behind the mirror of his glasses, it'd almost driven him mad in the office. He kept the blinds closed many times because of that alone. The little things she did…and he couldn't filter any of it out. Not that he really wanted to.

A low sound in the back of her throat was followed by arms snaking around his neck. Each frosted nail drug through his perfect blonde hair, making a wreck of it all. She held to him tightly, like an open wound: retracting would be her undoing in a matter of seconds.

Drawing back, gasping for breath, Wesker stared down at her face. Surgeon's fingers traced along her jaw, tickling at her earlobe before wandering down her neck, brushing against where her pulse could be seen along that beautiful neck. If she was on fire, he was an undying blaze.

Jill could barely keep her eyes open, heavy lids hovering. "Don't stop." She panted. Nails curled their threat against his scalp.

Her chin caught in his grip, Wesker smirked. "I have no plans of that." His mouth was on hers again. It felt new still, like he'd never done it before. It felt wrong. It felt right. It was short-lived, as he had the hem of her shirt his grasp and yanked it upward.

No lacy little bra underneath.

He was almost disappointed.

_Almost._

She went to cover herself, only to find his hands forcing hers down. The brunette wasn't entirely self-conscious, but she wasn't grossly confident either in her appearance. Kevin hadn't helped, as short-lived as their relationship was. A larger rear and smaller breasts didn't gather the attention of every man on the block. Blue eyes lifting to meet his, she was surprised by how intense his gaze was. She almost thought he was hesitating. Odd, he was the most confident and collected person she'd ever met.

Cupping the swell of her left breast, he dared take a taste. Pink tongue drug in lazy circles over the nipple, he groaned his maleficent desire before relinquishing. So breathless already, he couldn't drink enough of her in to parch his thirst. Flicking over the sensitive bud, his hands shifted and favored their digits along the curve of her spine. Her gentle mewling made his clothing unbearable, everything feeling too tight.

"That's enough." The pale stones of her nails dug into his neckline as she pushed him back. Rather strong for someone built so willowy. She pushed again, landing him back on the couch.

He laughed. Not at her, only at her boldness. "Yes ma'am."

She traced her palms along the insides of his thighs, an unreadable aura in her wells of Alice blue. There wasn't a trace of judgment to be found in his face.

The term  _'fucking weird'_ had been used by unexperienced boys in the past. Boys who were taught that missionary was the only way by men who didn't know a woman's body from a hole in the ground. Anything else was dirty. Anything else was sin. Sin sent you to Hell.

She kept parts of herself under lock and key.

Parts he had just opened the door for. Her innermost wolf gave its coat a good shake, teeth smiling.

Wesker wasn't one to force a woman to be anything but what she really was. Back against the cream colored cushioning, legs spread eagle, his lips contracted into their fabled bewitching grin.

That entity on his face had only appeared once before to her, with red dripping from the edges of his mouth. The first time he had shown her he was still only a man. The other time she had felt in control.

She was growing to like control, nails raking over fabric. Muscles twitched, shifted, or squirmed under her touch.

He saw her as she truly was for the first time. He saw what hid in shadow, and slept beneath a pretty smile and a silly laugh. He thought briefly of the painting on the wall. Paris.

_**Femme Fatale.** _

' _With some education…she could be.'_

He couldn't have wanted her any other way.

The brunette's eyes drank him all in. Teeth nipping at her bottom lip briefly, she couldn't help but imprint it all to memory.

The outline of muscle under the tight black shirt.

His fingers sinking into the fabric under them as he gripped.

The way his smile tugged a little more on one side than the other.

The outline of his girth under the material of his slacks.

He looked so untamed.

What really interested her the most? The glint in his eye. Her show of dominance was fanning something inside of both of them. It made her feel powerful.

_**Him.** _

_Just like that._

_Submitting._

It was all uncharted territory for the taking.

She was high on her own kind of faux tyranny.

His grin faded fast under Jill's gauging stare. This uncharted territory was provoking another feeling in him as she stood over him. Even topless she was making him—…

' _Nervous?'_

_No._

' _Maybe.'_

Leaning forward, Albert hooked a finger in the waist of her pants. It only took a little pull for her to be left in nothing but a pair of filigree black panties. An interesting selection, it felt like window shopping. Her kittenish attempt to twist away from his grip was met by a hand snatching her wrist. "Where are you going?" Her giggles caused a smirk on his part. His palm wandered up the sheer fabric as she crawled into his lap and out of her loose pants, the blonde was growing anxious under his surface to entice her with his touch. He wanted to hear those mysterious parts of her sing again.

Long fingers frisked through his hair, the rock hard girth of his cock throbbing against her thigh as she nibbled along his jawline. She didn't acknowledge it openly; he'd have to show want of his own. His mouth and tongue on her collarbone was such a pleasant feeling; it sent a tremble down her spine. She wondered how he would feel rigid against the roof of her mouth as she drug her nails over muscle hidden under the shirt to his belt.

He deliberated much the same, tracing the interior of that bothersome fabric she still wore. He barely brushed against the heated flesh of her pink petals. Just enough for a drop of her ambrosia to bead on a digit. His brows jolted as the zipper fell down and her hand wandered in.

He was thick and hard, and his nostrils flared as she rotated her thumb over the head of his member. There was some pride to be had in watching his eyes dial and desire scribble its name all over his features. It guided his unoccupied hand to clasp into her flesh, pressured spots white and then staining red as his hands moved again. It was dominating him just as much as her hand was: leaving him dripping all over her digits.

He couldn't look away. Her hand stroking him, the look on her face… The gentle bounce of her chest from breath and motion. She made him ache in the worst way possible. He wouldn't be easily bested, however.

Jill gasped as his wrist flipped, a crooked finger sliding in easily. She visibly shuddered, internally collapsed all around his digit as it slid to the joint before retracting over and over. Even the pad of his thumb whispered his savage nature, abusing her pearl. Everything in her quaked. She felt his stare even when her eyes where shut, his gaze burning. Jill forced them back wide open. She wasn't about to let him win. Dominance was not something she was so willing to share just yet.

He strained with composure, breath out, lips spread, and eyes wide when she released him. Saturating her palm in her own saliva, she was back on him. He hated how she made his member weep all over the skin stretched between her thumb and index finger. He loved it too.

She fought to contain every wanton sound that usurped her brain's demand for silence. She hated how a second finger sank inside and thrust. She loved it too.

He swallowed hard, brow knitting.

Her back arched as she let out a moan.

His teeth sank into her side.

A tighter grip coiled his aching rod.

A tongue bathed over the bruise and perfect mark of his teeth under her ribs. Cool breath made her mewl. It had been her Achilles heel. He rotated his thumb one way and then the other until he was certain of an upper hand.

She tossed her head back and caution was thrown to the wind. She openly worshipped his skill with endless vocalizations.

He pushed in. Her walls pushed back. So reminiscent of their relationship. He knew she was building fast and fierce. Tongue drug between the mounds of her breasts, the blonde was hardly interested in seeing her display stop.

Her grip on his girth finally released, both of her hands were behind her. The insides of his thighs were hers to claw. Those long fingers of his were about to be the end of her. She shamelessly begged him not to stop.

His Aphrodite, wild and vicious, was dripping all over his palm. Such a brutal and starved animal she was under the veil.

' _Beautiful…'_

Free hand grabbing her jaw, he yanked her head up. Eyes meeting, he refused to let her free.

Those hazy pools of cornflower stared in all of their wanton volumes at him. She couldn't tear her eyes from him.

He could feel her legs trying to close on either side of his own. He spread wider, much stronger than she was.

The brunette was forced to tremble all around him, her hands on his chest. Eyes locked, her face was a flurry of emotions. His name leaving her lips, she cried out from a less than affectionate thrust of fingers. She pushed back against his digits, quivering.

"Cum for me." His voice was a low growl.

It was too much for her to hold in. She never thought she'd live to see the day those words would escape his throat. It made her clench, entire form seized. Drenching his hand was an understatement, writhing and shaking uncontrollably. Breath snared, eyes rolled to the back of her head, she thought she was going to pass out.

Wesker's free hand cradled the back of her neck, keeping her steady. He laughed as she wobbled. "Are you alright?"

Her nod was not very convincing. Fingers drawn out, her panties slid back. Sopping wet, as wobbly as a fawn fresh to the world, she stumbled to her feet. His hand caught her forearm, she never hit the carpet. His chuckling made her angry and red for some reason. Eyes lifted to him as she slid the soaked undergarments off.

Albert's dark steel stare seemed permanently stuck on her. The crease of his lips parting, the glistening tips of his two fingers responsible for making such a mess, and permanently wrecking her for any other man, slid past teeth. His tongue lapped along them, heavy lids hovering over his eyes. He watched her watching him, a cruel smirk erupting below those bedroom eyes. Silent as the grave.

So carnal, somehow she could believe that this was him. His own veil was lifted. "That good, huh?"

His perfectly straight and pearly teeth bit down on those digits until they ached, lips enclosing to suck the remnants off. Her taste was as close to being completely intoxicated as he cared to be. His free hand wagged for her to join him once again.

In his lap, she was done with hesitations. Hips rolling against him, she left his length slick in her honey. It took a dark and husky voiced confession in her ear before she slid back and then  _ **on**_  him. All of him, safe inside, filled her right to the brim. Stretched wide, the brunette had plenty of experience. She had no experience of him, however.

His sweater was stripped off at last, blame thrown on it for making him too warm. Never her, what she was doing was welcome. Lean muscle shuddered under her nails testing them. Her tongue licking up a bead of sweat near his pectoral made him seize.

His hips met hers, buried so deep, fingers digging trenches in her flesh, bruising and abusing her skin.

She whimpered, a pained tone echoing out while previously skittering fingers clenched.

He ceased, pulling back. Sat up, his arms encompassed her lithe form, fingers snaking down to her ample bottom. Gentle affections wrote silent apologies along her neck and then her mouth.

Jill forgave him, setting the pace with a gentle rock of her hips against him. He sunk back into the couch under her mouth wandering along his collarbone. The slope of his shoulder, her lips drug and half-moon eyes watched his close. A gluttonous sound out of him made her smile wide.

He pulsed as she ground down and swirled around, muscles bordering the tension of piano wire. His mouth hung open, something he was unaware of entirely.

_He never meant to get lost in her._

She continued to rob him of energy, forehead to forehead. A gentle thumb brushed his bottom lip before she fused her mouth to his. Her pace was firm, never tiring.

So used, his exhausted brow beaded in sweat, a rare expression on his face. His eyes refuse to tear away, hypnotized by her using him for her own needs. He was so close, and yet so far from his own end.

She could have ridden him like he was her own stallion to whip and spur right across the finish line. Merciful creature at heart, she let him tell her what he wanted. Bated breath, she obeyed his demands, pounding every inch requested. New demands made, her hips shifted, pace picked to his desire.

A hand in her hair, he tugged her head back. Hips lifted, he met her halfway. It was never soon enough for an insatiable creature like him.

She was a vice around him, squeezing and pressing, a quickening pace adapted to drive him over the edge. She could see it in his eyes, how he would never be the same after that night. Perhaps it was in the way his hands were so needy on her skin, voice begging for her to  _ **not stop.**_

With nails dug along her back, his face pressed against her chest, he buried as much sound as possible when his end came. She could feel every throb of his release. When they collapsed back, the sound of his heartbeat drowned out all other sound, even his own bated breath.

Lids shut, the blonde inhaled deeply through his nose. Finding the surface of his mind once more, he ignored the fatigue that came with the territory. Long fingers found their way under her chin, drawing her face up. Foggy blue colored eyes opened to view her, his entire form loosened to a relaxed posture.

She gazed at him, blinking under sweaty strands of brunette.

Something seared in his chest, heavy and hot. He felt it more for her now than ever. It was an emotion that didn't deserve a name. He closed it away.

Her lips cracked into a smile. She was tired, but it was still a smile.

He returned the gesture. "You're a surprising creature, Miss Valentine."

"I try." She uttered softly.

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, a hand gently rising to rest against the side of her face, pushing back strands of caramel in their path. His mouth found hers without warning. He kissed her how he should have kissed her every time before. Somewhere inside of him, something made him feel guilty for every time he hadn't kissed her like that.

Unyielding, her hands cradled both sides of his face.

They were a fragile pair of deadly things. Glass knives.

* * *

In her bedroom, clothing was forbidden the rest of the night. After shutting the door, she advanced into his arms, mouth meshing with his effortlessly.

The storm raged on outdoors.

Hands lost in her locks, his mouth returned the gesture with equal vigor and desire. Hands on her rump, the man guided her to the bed. "Do you want more?" He purred in her ear before giving the appendage a soft nibble.

"If you're still offering."

With that said, their mouths fused again. Her hips rocking against him, Albert exhaled sharply. He shoved her onto the comforter, following after. A panther on the prowl, he chased her to the headboard before blessing her swelled lips with a kiss deserving of her.

She smiled in the darkness. The pads of her fingers gently stroked against the toned muscle adorning the man's arms, up to his shoulders and then down his chest. At his Adonis belt, her nails drug back up over abdominals, then pectorals.

He groaned as the woman's hips grinded against him. Daring, a hand went to the nape of her neck and pulled her up. Biting her lower lip, he grinned in the dark as she moaned.

* * *

Hours slipped by within the bedroom, darkness painted to every wall as the shades were drawn tightly shut. Scents of cologne, sweat, and lust permeated against the cool air of her gray bedroom. Sheets strewn over the floor remained where they fell the night before, crumpled and forgotten. The clock read four o'clock but its silent broadcast of time was ignored as well. Within the spacious bed, the comforter rustled restlessly as two bodies stirred from one position in favor of another.

Mouths enmeshed in a passionate kiss, the fingers of both lovers were interlocked as their hands were pressed deep into the mattress. Tongues dancing to the sounds of bated breathing and restless feral tones, this would have marked their tenth session of love making for the night. Bodies fused aside from the ravaging strokes delivered, there seemed no end in sight to this. Exhaustion was a foreign word, the two driven by something  _more_.

Jill's soft hands glided down the slickened back of her lover, a man who would one day defile the trust she felt for him. For now, he was her everything, as the rest of the world ceased to exist as her stare locked with his as soon as their lips broke free from one another. The twin pools that were his irises held every promise that she could desire, if only she would ask.

He couldn't form words, panting heavily with each movement between them. He wanted to. More than just badly.

Hands slipping up, cradling his face between, Jill could feel what was left of her guard crumbing away completely and without her even truly realizing it.

He saw what it all could be. Keeping it to himself was something he had become attuned to doing.

' _This would be something that lasts. Or, it would go down in flames.'_

* * *

The clock read six 'o five when they laid tangled up in one another. A cigarette lit in the tray on the nightstand went ignored. He had gone quiet for some time, just looking at her. Long fingers repeatedly brushed along her cheek, steel blue eyes watching her every move.

Left alone in her head, she laid inside of herself. Galaxies of thoughts wandered endless gaps of space.

' _What now? I can't imagine I'm any more tangible than any other woman.'_

There it stood, ugly and real as anything she could find within her perspective.

It made a lump roll in her gut.

Her silence was almost unbearable. She had left him shaken to the core. Everything raw, alive, and wild. Her sudden mysterious, broody and sullen nature was why he asked "Was it good for you?"

' _It was good. It was better than good. If it's only once…so be it. You knew what he was like from the start. Can't blame a lion for eating a zebra, Jilly.'_

Under the plume of a cigarette's smoke, perfect teeth spread under a perfect smile as she said "Don't worry dear, you were fabulous."

His sly smirk went flat.

The most terrifying phrase Albert Wesker had ever heard just made an exit from Jill Valentine's mouth.

She expected him gone before dawn, another notch on a belt that probably was more notches than belt.

Dawn came and went, his nose buried against the hollow of her beautiful neck. He held her like all children hold their favorite toy.

The one that kept monsters away.

She allowed herself to relax after that. Assured of sincerity, she drifted back to sleep.

Helen incarnate, she'd cause an empire to fall all because one man loved her…

_His Helen._

_Her Paris._

* * *

_"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul." -Pablo Neruda_


	23. Chapter 23

 

_November 21, 1996_

Aged fingers thoughtfully brushed against the stubble of Dick Valentine's rugged face. A distant look in his eyes soon dialed back to being in the here and now.

Across from him, a pair of shades stared back.

All around them, visitors and other convicted individuals chattered at other tables.

The old man exhaled deeply at last, a look of concern donned on his face. "I never thought she'd go looking for trouble."

An inward sigh from Wesker and the blonde picked up his Styrofoam cup filled with black coffee. It tasted terrible. The coffee always tasted terrible at the jailhouse. He waited until a roaming guard had passed before he spoke. "Don't be too harsh on yourself. Just count your blessings that you taught her well enough to evade detection."

"All I wanted her to do was avoid him, and watch her step." The elder Valentine's voice was somber and distant. Somewhere the tone was a plea to a woman not present. "So much like her mother. I never wanted her involved in any of this."

Albert leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest. "You should be the one watching your step, however. The fat dog has your scent and is looking for the trail."

An amused sound made by the old man, he ran a hand along the back of his neck. "I suppose he's barking to his master that he figured it all out." The idea of Irons hunting him wasn't the problem. It was what Wesker had been doing behind his back. The old thief had been quiet up until this point. "I don't want her involved in this. This is between you and I. Getting rid of the problem is on me, not on her."

Silence on the blonde's end.

Wrinkled brow lifting, a roguish grin encompassed Dick's lips. "It's time to consider a change in the wind. I'll come back when it's safe and we'll finish this nonsense. I'm too much of a possible liability in here. It would be a shame if I talked."

Dick's silence was worth its weight in gold.

Wesker was a statue aside from his breathing. "You think adjusting the sails is in order?"

Mr. Valentine nodded. "It'd be for the best, I think."

Expression never betraying him, the blonde nodded once. "Alright. When?"

"Tonight, I think. I have an appointment with Dr. Birkin. Terrible case of pneumonia, and all that." Dick leaned forward, he looked worried. "Can you tell Jill? She needs to be ready to leave as soon as possible."

Lead dropped in Albert's stomach. The old man was skipping town, taking all of his collateral with him. He'd come back when it was safe? Fat chance in Hell of that actually happening, and Wesker knew better than to trust it. Yet, what choice did he have?

' _He planned this from the beginning…'_

Wesker fumed under his guise of calm. "Of course." He'd play along…

_So many games._

"You're a good soul, Albert."

_So little time…_

* * *

"Does he really believe that we are going to buy that?" Annette's voice smoldered its question. Eight in the morning on a Saturday, woken by the news of Dick's goals, she wasn't in the cheeriest of moods. "I don't know if I'm more upset about his cowardice or the fact that he used everyone to get rid of his old boss. Now he can just disappear with a clean slate as far as his potential employers are concerned. If anything, his job description just received a fat gold star for deception."

At the kitchen table, the three scientists had to make a decision.

William's tired blue eyes peered from behind folded palms at his untouched cup of coffee. His hair was a mess.

The clock ticked quietly on the wall.

Albert hadn't taken off his glasses at all; it was hard to say just what he was thinking.

The Birkins hadn't heard a word out of him since the sewers; it was surprising that he showed up without warning.

Come to think of it, they hadn't heard a peep out of the little minx either. Usually Saturday was when Jill could be found on their kitchen floor: kittens in her lap, Sherry braiding her short hair asking why older girls at her school kiss boys. Boys were yucky.

William hoped she thought they were yucky until she was thirty.

"We should…" Digits digging against the exhaustion in his eyes, William paused for a moment. "Shit… Everything just got fucked worse than an investor who threw all of his money into an underwater basket weaving company."

Albert nodded.

"He'll talk if Irons convinces Spencer to pursue this witch hunt?" Annette asked, coffee doing little to scorch the scorn in her voice.

"Yes." William uttered softly. "That's a given now. The real shame is how stupid he is to think Spencer won't just kill everyone involved…and their families. He saw what Spencer does. He knows our backs are against a wall… It's probably why he's playing his hand this way." A heavy sigh and he continued between defeated shoulders." I'll gather up all of the information, we'll see if he keeps up his end of the bargain in coming months." It was all too much for his head. Chair sliding out, he wandered out of the room.

Annette spooned sugar into her cup of coffee, sharp eyes settled on Albert. "You've been oddly quiet. Is there something else we should know about?"

No answer. Wesker picked up the paper.

Tilting her head, the blonde woman lounged back in her chair. "That good, huh?"

His lips twitched briefly. Another woman had that question on her tongue recently. "I… have no idea what you're talking about Annette." Flipping the page, Albert side glanced as she lit a cigarette.

"Sure. Take off your sunglasses."

Hesitation littered him. He lifted his head to view her evenly. "Why?"

"Because I said so, that's why."

"No." Mock defiance.

"Now, or I will take them off for you."

He bristled at that. "You wouldn't dare—…Okay, you would." Stare straight up at her; he almost chuckled at the horrified look on Mrs. Birkin's face.

"What the fuck happened?" His glasses were dropped on the table, her hand on his jaw as she shifted the blonde man's head to get a better look at his left eye. The dark violet painted under his skin with tones of blue and spider webbing of red was a surprising appearance. "Jesus Christ in Heaven, Albert. Did she do this?"

Wesker pushed her hand away at her wrist, looking back at the paper. "It was just an accident."

"An accident? Did you fall down some stairs too?"

He gave her a dry look. "No. It was my fault."

"Okay, Steven Stockholm Syndrome." Back in her chair, the blonde woman's gaze narrowed.

"I may have surprised her when she was asleep." He was casual about all of it.

"Oh, well that makes perfect sense. It's not creepy as Hell either." Sarcasm laced her voice before she took a drag from her cigarette.

William stopped in his tracks past the doorway. He couldn't contain his laughter, pile of folders under his arm. "It looks like roleplaying ' _Stranger in the House_ ' gone wrong. Someone must have forgotten the safe word." He took a good look once he was a foot away from Wesker, a low hiss escaping him.

"It's not what you think."

William rested a hand against his heart. "Hey, I'm not one to judge. Annette likes playing ' _Hot Virologist in the Broom Closet._ ' That's how Sherry was conceived."

Annette smiled. "I miss playing ' _Hot Virologist in the Broom Closet'_ and  _'Naughty Cleaning Lady'_. "

"Is there anywhere you two won't fuck?" His exasperation was met by snickering. "I'll take that as a 'No'."

Folders dropped on the table, William sighed. His spirit seemed slightly lifted. "I'll get the cash out of the safe in the garage. You might want to get going. I'm sure you don't want to spend the rest of the day here." His voice filled with sad, sad, sad tones as he headed for the garage door. He dried a few nonexistent tears as he looked back and received one huge eye roll from Albert. All William needed was a violin. "She's leaving on a jet plane. She won't be back again." His voice was so pained. Loud sniffles were followed by hysterically absurd sobs and wails soon after until the door leading to the garage shut.

They could still hear faint and muffled sounds as William continued his charade of mourning outside.  _"Oh God why does he have to let her go?! Why?!"_

Somewhere outside, neighborhood dogs began howling.

Annette couldn't contain a snort. She quietly apologized upon viewing her counterpart's angry stare.

"I'm so glad that this entire spectacle has amused you both."

"Oh, it's been very entertaining. We were able to go cold turkey on soap operas because of you." A soft and genuine smile surfaced on her features. "I think you've had more fun than you let on, too…"

He shook his head, slipping his sunglasses back on.

Annette just watched him behind her fingers folded around the cup of coffee. Appraising gaze watched his head move to peer outside, allowing her a perfect view of his side profile behind those dark lenses. She waited, said nothing, and sipped her coffee.

He probably hadn't even intended on giving her a keyhole to peer past his visage of frost, just staring outside with a hand supporting the side of his face. Then his eyes slowly closed, the corners creasing small crow's feet as his brow knit.

Stress.

Hurt.

Sorrow.

' _It has to be like reliving Elizabeth all over again. Another woman being forced to walk out on him because her father has such a hold on her.'_

It bothered Annette too much. The cup of coffee was set aside. Calm as a pool, she adjusted her housecoat and rose to her feet. Two steps and her arms wrapped around his sitting form.

He didn't move a muscle.

Her nails were against his hair, her touch motherly in nature. A kiss against those strands, she sighed. "We love you, Albert."

His free arm finally wrapped around her waist and he returned the gesture.

She raked her nails over the top of his hair, a deep sigh escaping her. "It's going to be alright… I promise."

He nodded. Silence hid that he wanted to believe her.

Her frozen eyes peered outside to the bare trees that dappled the landscape. She released him, trying to convince him that she was right with a warm smile—a mother's smile. A mother's smile that dried tears, loved deeply, and unconditionally forever.

Wesker was gone ten minutes later.

Annette paced restlessly for a while. A nail clicking against her bleach white teeth, she found herself staring at the kitchen phone. Approaching it, she scooped up the phone book.

* * *

Jill was sprawled out on the sofa, a thin black blanket strewn over her legs. Wesker was gone before she woke. Driving across town to her house just for a change of clothes was too much work for a Saturday. She settled for wearing his dark blue button down shirt instead. It smelled of his cologne every time she pressed her nose against the collar of it.

His absence left her with little to do other than read and watch television.

The back door opened and shut, a few footsteps heard against tile. The sound of a paper bag being dug into caught her attention but she didn't bother looking away. Soon the echoes of footfalls were muted by carpet. Flipping through the channels on the television for over an hour, she had found herself watching an episode of  _'The Real World'_. "Is this the epitome of America?" She asked out loud as two of the cast members' relentlessly argued over simple chores and ended up in a fist fight.

"Seems like it, doesn't it?" A voice purred as weight shifted onto the couch and the woman realized that she was no longer the only one under the blanket. The form slid behind her, an arm draping over her midriff. Warm lips found the nape of her neck, causing the woman to shiver under him. "Mm… I should probably shower."

"Yes, you smell like sex and shame." Her sarcastic comment aired once again to her wit. "Must have gone to see William."

At that remark, the blonde haired man snorted softly. "I think you're the only one I could be gay for."

"How do you figure that?" She asked halfheartedly, flipping the channel. VH1 wasn't a bad thing to land on. The screen showed the opening scenes of the music video for 'Iris' began to play and Jill set the remote down.

Albert's eyes fixed on the TV briefly before he looked down to her and those bright blue eyes that melted his frigid nature every time he looked upon them. "Well, if by some horrible accident… nuclear fall-out or something and you suddenly had the same parts I had…"

' _Where the fuck am I going with this?'_

Her eyes were as big as dinner plates.

' _This isn't going to end well…'_

"…I just think that you would be the only one I'd be willing to have a normal relationship with. As normal as possible, anyway…"

Her brows quirked, a very confused expression etching on her features at his confession. A hand lifted to guide his face to look back to her as he darted his stare back to the television. "Wait a minute. You're saying if I had a dick, you'd suck it and have ass sex with me to make me happy? Do I understand this correctly?" She nipped at her bottom lip, containing a giggle.

A dejected reaction, his head sagging between his shoulders, a deep sigh followed. "Yes." Her fit of laughter did not help. Head lifted, face bright red, all he could do was shake it. "That really didn't—"

She snaked her other hand to join its mate, nails affectionately brushing against his cheeks while she listened to him try to somehow turn it all around. No luck, but she was still smiling anyway. "Albert?"

"Yes, dear heart?" His expression was cooled, but he was visibly bristling at her continued giggles.

"That is probably the weirdest and sweetest thing any man has ever said to me." She could barely contain her laughter still, tears forming at her eyes.

"Really?" His tone was wary with passive undertones. The comment had been strange…even for him in his infinite oddities hidden beneath a mask of frost and stone.

She nodded in turn. "Really, it is…" Her fingers wove to the nape of his neck.

The music forgotten in the background one palm stretching out, he cradled her chin within his grasp. Tipping her head towards him, lips meeting in a gentle show of affection, his peppermint breath bathed over her nostrils. Once their lips parted, the taste of his mouth matched the scent in sweetness and cooling bite. Kiss broken at last, the moment over and the song done, Wesker leaned up. "Shower, before you smell like this as well." On his feet, he vanished from sight into the bedroom.

Twenty minutes later, he was crawling back under the blanket behind her. A pillow situated on the arm of the couch, the blonde finally relaxed.

He had yet to tell her of her father's wishes.

He didn't want to.

Absent fingers slid over Jill's nearest elbow, he quietly watched her. "What are you reading?"

"Umm, the article is called…'Ten ways to tell if your relationship is heading for disaster'. Hey!" She frowned as he snatched the magazine and tossed it behind the couch. "I was reading that!"

"No." His nose nestled against her cheek, arms dragging her down to settle with him. "Your relationship is fine. I'm willing to turn into a homosexual if you suddenly became a man. Write to Cosmopolitan about that. Women from coast to coast might catch a clue. I need you to stop reading those evil magazines and indulge me a bit."

"Feeling needy today?"

"Very."

A deep sigh and she snuggled up to him. Nails dragging through his damp hair, she smiled as he groaned with her touch. Raking over the scalp, she nearly had him asleep under her hands.

One eye flew open as she stopped, gold leaf lashes thrown back.

Her face flushed red.

At some point, he felt that familiar ache returning to his head. He resorted to leaving her in a flurry of giggles when she refused to let him free to find the Ibuprofen. Ice pack retrieved from door of the freezer, he crawled back onto the couch with the brunette girl. "How bad is it?" He asked as his head tipped to peer at her.

Jill frowned deeply. "I feel so bad for elbowing you… It's very dark."

Albert smirked, bringing the pack up to cover the eye while she tangled up with him. The blanket was forgotten. "Not the worst a woman has done to me, but definitely a first."

"You surprised me…" She mumbled, forehead coming to rest against his chest. Even with his laughter, she felt horrible.

"Noted, Jill. No more surprising you with intercourse at three in the morning when you're dead asleep. In my defense, you were sleeping in a very provocative position." Her deadpan stare only caused him to snicker. His unbruised eye viewed her.

She was wearing his shirt.  _Again._

It hung open, far too big for her. It covered her nude form aside from the slit where it was unbuttoned, the skin near her naval peeking out. Too long, yet it cut off high along her pale thighs. More black panties, it seemed to be the only black thing she ever wore.

He never let other women wear his clothing. It was something he despised. It felt like akin to what a girl in college would do: wearing her boyfriend's things. Childish behaviors which were something he had outgrown a long time ago.

She didn't care what he thought about her swiping his shirts like raccoons swiped shiny objects.

Something in him was glad she didn't.

Jill got away with murder in his house sometimes like that.

"Can I have my shirt back? I think you've stolen enough of them already." The icepack was tossed on the coffee table.

"No." She gave him a scowl, tugging the dark shirt closed as he tried to snake a hand at the opening of the fabric.

"When can I have it back?"

"Never. Wear mine." She laughed as he began pulling her hands apart at the wrists.

"I tried, it doesn't look right. My ass hangs out and the top is too short. I'd look gayer than Aiken kissing his boyfriend."

"That is pretty gay." Jill had to admit. "When did Richard start dating someone?" She crossed her arms with all of her strength as he tried again to pry them apart. "Stop it!"

"I don't know. They both stopped in when we were working graveyard shift. He forgot his motorcycle helmet in the locker room. Maybe if  _you_  hadn't taken forever making sure the building was secure, you would have met Richard's suitor." He could feel her getting tired, her arms shaking to remain folded.

"I was being thorough as I was directed by my boss. He's so strict." She reached muscle failure, shirt confiscated and leaving her mostly naked. Her arms crossed, hands resting on her shoulders to cover herself. "Boo!"

"Boo is right, your boss sounds like an asshole." He held the shirt just out of her reach as her arm jetted out to snatch it. "Nope." The blonde couldn't help but laugh as she literally tried to climb him to get to that shirt.

"Give it back!" She hooked a sleeve around his wrist.

He tried to switch hands.

She hooked the other.

There were view times her antics surprised him. Being shoved completely onto his back with his hands bound over his head and over the arm of the couch was definitely one of them—especially considering she was only wearing a miniscule amount of clothing.

Somehow though, he couldn't imagine his life without her antics.

He looked up to his hands, then back to her. A cruel grin fixed to his lips at the sight of her holding him down. "I think you might like me."

"I just might."

"Let me go."

Jill smirked, her hands pulling the sleeves outward keeping him restrained. A brow lifted as she felt his first attempt to break free. Hovering over him, she rocked her pelvis against his. "What are the magic words?"

"You're fired."

She laughed so hard she snorted. "Nooo."

He sighed inwardly, attempting again to no avail. He wondered briefly if he'd taught her that little trick. "I'll take you to dinner?"

"There you go." She winked, releasing the sleeves of his shirt and sliding off of him. Surprise encompassed her expression as his arms snaked around her supple form. Teeth grazing against her earlobe caused her to let out a pleased sound. "Let me go, I need to get dressed."

"Never," He uttered softly, snaring her close to his own body.

Her blue eyes met his. "You're never letting me go?"

"No." He could hear his own heartbeat, it drowned everything out. Faint smile given, his lips sought hers for a gentle caress.

Her eyes darkened. Lips parted, her mouth met his, after what was felt to be an eon had passed since the last gesture of affection had been exchanged between them.

* * *

The soft sounds of heels clicking filled the dark cavern. Annette flicked her cigarette into the sewage's current before she began up the stone passageway under the RPD. Her face was indecipherable, an envelope between her fingers as her other hand checked the pocket of her lab coat for something. At the end of the passageway, she came to a stop.

She peered inside. The Taxidermy room was open for business, it looked like.

A smirk on her lips, she sauntered up Brian Irons sitting on the squatting stool on the far side of the room. "Here's what you wanted. Five-thousand dollars, cash."

Irons sneered, examining it before tossing it onto a workbench nearby. A dark chuckle escaped him as he lifted his cigar back to his lips.

The envelope filled with cash landed next to an assortment of tools that looked like they came straight out of the Dark Ages to Annette's eyes.

Mrs. Birkin was a hardened woman, but she would have been a liar if she ever said he didn't scare her.

"So, Dr. Birkin… Is there anything you want from him? Any information that can be…useful?"

"There's nothing useful we can get out of him. Not a word of this to Spencer. I don't think he could handle the truth like you and I can, Mr. Irons. Some people can't take the brutal reality of weak thieves. Ozwell just had surgery again. Who knows what this would do to him." He seemed satisfied with that answer as she watched him go back to sharpening his knives at the bench. Annette's haunting and icy gaze drifted to the man strapped to the table.

Orange jumpsuit still hanging from his body akin to the cloak of a specter in Scottish lore, Dick Valentine would have hollered if he had the ability to. Unfortunately, Brian Irons had an answer for that with a gag. Every foot there was some sort of restraint holding him to the table. Blood caked along his hairline, dried and flaking from what looked like a dead blow.

She stared at him for the longest time before approaching. Her long fingers drifted up the length of the aging man's arm, coming to rest on the side of his face.

A look of sheer horror and fear were engraved all over it.

' _Fucking idiot._ _ **Nobody**_ _threatens my family.'_

"You know who I am, don't you?"

The man nodded.

The blonde smiled gently and spoke softly. "You were wrong to think you were going to get away with this." Her eyes peered down the length of the table before looking to him again. "I'm sorry that things have to be this way."

The aged man's nostrils flared, his expression changing to anger.

"You threatened my husband, our life's work…and worst of all…you threatened my little girl with your lies." Her voice sounded so sad. It was all so sad to Annette as she gently stroked his hair. "You didn't even think of your own daughter. That's a shame, Mister Valentine. Now…" She picked up a scalpel on the rolling cart next to the table. "…you'll never know what happens to her."

His eyes fixed right on the blade glittering in her hand.

"Isn't that an awful feeling?"

The old man swallowed hard, and whimpered like a dog.

Annette laughed, excited and somehow so very nervous. She dumped the knife back on the cart. Mania caressed her features as delicately as a lover's touch. "Pathetic worm."

Irons chuckled from his corner, the scraping sound of blade against sanding stone the only other noise to be found.

Dick couldn't fight tears burning in his eyes. Under the gag he choked on his own sobs. The fight in him was in the twilight of its existence. He struggled against the restrains of the slab to no avail.

The blonde woman looked so pained herself. Then she reached into her pocket.

He barely felt the needle as it stabbed into his arm.

Countless mothers praised Annette over the years for painlessly delivering vaccines to their babies. No tears, no squalling; just smiling toddlers looking up at her motherly smile as she told them that they were done.

"Don't you worry; we'll take good care of her. Sweet dreams,  _Dick_." The last words she had to speak before he started to show signs the sedative was working.

Irons lifted his head, smoke rolling from his nostrils.

"Do they suffer much, Brian?"

Irons was on his feet, walking toward the table. "I imagine they do to some extent. He's just an animal, Annette. He does what comes naturally. I'll keep his hands as a trophy."

"How Biblical of you, Brian. Can't say I disagree about him being nothing more than an animal." She looked up to him with a sigh. "Well, I should make my exit. I left a key in the envelope in case you need lye. I left two large containers in the chemical cabinet of my work station. I assume you'll just dump what's left in the sewer?"

The portly man nodded, fingers tracing his mustache. "Yep. It's the best way to not get caught." He lifted a brow as she paused and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"When William is appointed a member of the board, I will remember this favor."

Irons had a chuckle at that. "Oh Annette, I know you will. You are the brains of that operation over there." He patted her hand, a smile on his face as he returned to the bench to retrieve one of his knives. An afterthought, he had one last question. "What about the girl, if you don't mind my asking?"

Annette knew what a man like him would do to a girl like that if given the chance. She played it nonchalant. "She's Wesker's problem now, let him figure out what to do with her. Have a good evening, Brian." Her smoky voice trailed back up to him as she departed, heels echoing in the cavernous passageway.

"Oh… I will." His own reflection shown in the side of the selected blade as the taxidermist enthusiast gazed at his latest prize.


	24. Chapter 24

 

_Theme:Black Balloon –The Goo Goo Dolls_

* * *

Something was wrong. Jill couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the day felt… _wrong_. Somewhere in her gut, there was a gnawing sensation of anxiety. She just couldn't put her finger on it. Because of it, she found herself spacing out frequently, wandering her thoughts like the wild and dark forest they were. Her wolf wasn't caged anymore, it sniffed and prowled freely. A voice brought her back to reality. "What?"

"Are you even listening?" Her brunette partner asked with a chuckle from his desk. "You've been distracted all morning."

"Sorry, Chris…I'm just not here today."

"I hear you. Have a wild weekend or something?"

She hid her face by pretending to dig in the drawer on the far side of her desk. "No, it was pretty boring. I was kinda spaced out all weekend too."

"Seeing you like this, I'm debating which of us had the most boring weekend." Chris commented, papers slid between the jaws of the stapler at the edge of his desk. An enclosed fist smashed the tool to create a metal clasp for his report.

"You, probably. I spent all of Sunday helping the neighbors' little girls find their lost puppy." Jill replied, a smile creasing on her face while she began typing again.

"The McGee girls across the street? Hah, which one gave you orders for finding it?"

"The littler one, Pricilla, she was really funny." Jill murmured, gaze lifting as she watched Barry and Brad walk into the office…

"I've found that dog twelve times for them. He usually wanders into my back yard when he smells something on the barbeque. Supposedly, they got a leash for him since I reminded their parents of the laws and how awful it would be for the girls to end up with a dead puppy." Redfield scribbled his name on the last page of the next report, stapling it much like the previous one.

"That's funny; the puppy had a leash on. I guess they're not strong enough to control a German Sheppard."

Chris was all smiles at that. "Maybe I can talk to the guys over at the K-9 unit about their obedience program… See if we can help the little ladies out."

Jill's soft sniggers ceased as a shadow drifted over. Looking up, her brows jerked straight up. "…Chief?"

Chris looked up as well, his appearance immediately hardening at the sight of Brian Irons' portly form turned away from him.

"Good morning, Officer Valentine. Could I ask you a question?"

The rest of the team's eyes jerked from Irons straight to the unoccupied back office. There was only one question on everyone's mind:  _Where the fuck is Wesker?_

"Of course, sir…I—"

"Good, where were you on Saturday night?" The majority of his weight leaned on the edge of her desk. Irons was far too close for comfort.

"I… Sir?"

"She was with us at J's." Brad's voice butted in, reaching out and touching every wall of the room. Headset slipped on, he adjusted the dial on the radio. A checklist between his fingers, the man in yellow quietly began to make a call to one of the RPD's helicopters.

A gratified expression, the chief nodded. "You were at J's?"

Jill nodded. She could feel her blood run cold. "Yes, sir."

"If you need verification that she was with all of us, Chief, you can always call Joan Piper. Brad has her number if you need it." Chris uttered over the man's shoulder from his desk.

' _That should stick in his craw.'_

Brad pretended not to hear that.

Barry hid his face behind a gun enthusiast's magazine, snorting.

Joseph's bandana was drug down to cover his red face. It was a poor job trying to maintain bearing, his entire form shook with muted laughter.

The bulk of the large man shifted off the woman's desk. "That won't be necessary, Christopher. Thank you." Irons dismissed the notion like a gnat. A digit pointed to Jill, the police chief continued. "When your captain gets in, I'd like to see you both in my office."

"Yes, sir."

Irons nodded, oddly offering a smile before strolling out of the room. The door slammed behind him a little harder than anyone expected.

Joseph let his forehead thump against his desk, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

Enrico had said it best at one time:  _"The name 'Joan Piper' is the equivalent to holding up the Holy Cross in the face of a demonic overlord named Brian Irons."_

Her notoriety was still something Jill felt too ignorant about as the cropped haired brunette returned to typing up the report.

* * *

Wesker stood across the street from the house of the only ally he was certain wasn't ready to turn tail and run. The sun had climbed to noon as he crossed the street. He cast a passing glance at the burgundy car in the driveway. It needed washed.

As the door swung open, Ada Wong's brows popped. "Albert Wesker, as I live and breathe…" Dressed in a white button up shirt and slacks, the Asian woman offered a broad grin.

Smirking, the blonde locked his stare with the woman. "Ada, how are you?"

"Good, I was just thinking about you."

"You don't say? May I come in?"

"Of course." Once he stepped in, she shut the door and locked it. "It's been a while since you stopped by." She said with a smile, returning to the living room to mute the television.

"Someone has to babysit that crew of morons." He uttered, stopping just past the hallway.

"I suppose so." Ada grinned, picking up her cup of tea. "John says 'Hello' and wonders when you'll be stopping by the mansion next."

He rolled his eyes at that, stare shifted to the muted scene on the television.

Wong already knew her boyfriend annoyed Wesker to high hell; she was just looking to toy with the man.

Brows raised, the blonde haired man sighed deeply. "We may have a problem with Valentine."

"What would that be? He decided that peace, love, and harmony are the way to exist?" Ada's question was dripping in sarcasm.

A gentle roll of his eyes and Albert folded his arms. "Almost, Miss Wong. He decided to vanish from the prison. Then he never met up with William for extraction. The girl is still in town. I'm at a loss for just where he snuck off to."

"Oh? Well, that isn't a problem. I'll track him down; give him a good spanking before putting a bullet in his head." Ada didn't show much curiosity. She didn't care; she was paid too well to ask too many questions. On top of that, she was at Wesker's mercy when it came to keeping her own identity a secret.

Wesker smiled blankly at what she said. "I was actually hoping you'd say that, Ada."

Peering at the clock briefly, she smiled. "What about the girl?"

"We'll talk about that after 'Daddy' is confirmed dead, Miss Wong."

"Of course, Wesker. Anything you say."

* * *

At 2:15 PM, Jill finally stepped out of the office with two boxes ready to go to the records office. Dropping them off, she was digging through the change in her pocket when she spotted Wesker climbing up the steps.

His shaded eyes met hers, a finger pointed to her and then his thumb jerked for her to follow.

She was on his heels in mere seconds, the soda machine forgotten. "I was about to call you when I got back to the office."

"No need now." His strong features were expressionless as a hand went to the railing and he ascended the stairs. "Have you had contact with your father at all?"

"Not since…" She paused to think.

He paused as well on the stairs, looking back to her. "When?" There was sharpness in his voice bordering unbridled anger.

"Three weeks ago? It was before we went on graveyard shift."

A sigh and he was moving again. "Fantastic. Do you know why Irons is calling us up here?"

"No, he stopped and asked me where I was this weekend."

' _And what exactly did you tell him, you silly girl?'_

Beret pulled off, folded and slipped under the strap of her shoulder guard, she was a mess for explanations. "I told him I was at J's with the rest of Alpha Team."

Stepping onto the carpet, Wesker's pace became brisk. Past a few uniforms, he led the way straight to the chief's office without another word. A hard knock and he opened the door.

Jill slid inside, akin to a child fearing punishment. Chief Irons waving them both in, she approached silently.

Hanging up the phone, Irons gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat you two." A pudgy hand groomed over his mustache as the police chief pulled a file from a drawer. Thumbing through some pages, he seemed in no real hurry.

Wesker let out a sigh, fishing out his cell phone as it rang. "Please call back later, I'm in a meeting." He turned it off after, slipping it back into his pocket.

The woman on his right tried to hide how worried she was.

' _Oh God, Dad what have you done now?'_

Seeming to give up, Irons just dropped the file on his desk. "So, sometime during the evening of November 21, your father decided that Raccoon City's jail wasn't a residence he wished to remain in. The boys on the first floor are still going through security footage, though if he had help escaping… His accomplices would certainly want to hide their identities." His stare lifted to them.

"Are you suggesting—?" Jill began.

Wesker's expression went flat. "With all due respect, chief—that is the craziest thing I have ever been accused of. There is no way in Hell I would help a fugitive escape."

Irons raised a hand in protest. "I completely believe you both. Considering the circumstances, I have to pursue all possible leads. Just tell me where you were last Saturday night, Captain."

"J's," He couldn't believe he said it, though alternatives to be considered were too far of a stretch.

The portly man nodded. "You were with the rest of your team, alright. Plenty of witnesses…" His eyes shifted to Valentine. "Young lady, you've been a wonderful asset to my police force."

Jill nodded, though felt rather stupid and tongue tied.

He almost appeared to be looking at her affectionately. "I would hope you will remember a few things. You wear that badge, and enforce the law. It isn't something to bend or break as you see fit. The people of this town pay for the clothes on your back and the food in your gut to uphold their way of life."

She nodded once more. "Yes, sir. I haven't had contact with my father for a few weeks. I have no idea where he is." Nails clicked against one another, her stare sank. "I'm actually shocked he didn't contact me at all…"

Irons leaned back in his leather chair, beady eyes watching her for the longest time. "Sometimes… people make rotten choices. Parents, especially, make horrible mistakes. Perhaps he took off and told you nothing so you'd just continue the good you're doing here. Maybe he wanted you to not suffer for his mistakes, and you could break the cycle."

Her eyes were glassy, stare on the stuffed raccoon not far away. "Yeah." She answered quietly.

Wesker just watched her from the corner of his sunglasses.

"I'm confident that if he comes back, you'll do the right thing. I will look out for you like I do all of my officers, girl. You just have to keep your captain and I informed if anything should happen. He needs to pay his debt to society for the things he has done." For once, the chief didn't sound condescending.

She nodded, on her feet as soon as she saw the captain doing the same.

"Anything else, chief?" Wesker's perpetually composed expression was beyond either of their scope of reading.

"That's it. Have a good day you two."

In the hallway, Wesker reminded her that the team was working Thanksgiving Day until 6.

Jill didn't say a word; her thoughts were a million miles away.

* * *

"Computers down at the plant?" The brunette man asked, tipping back in his chair.

"Yeah, William was on the brink of another breakthrough with the G-virus when they went offline." Annette said with a soft smile.

Rising from his chair, John nodded and yawned. "Have at it, Annette. Are you sure that you want to stay by yourself? I can just wait for you to finish."

Shaking her head, the woman quickly took his seat. Logging out of his ID, she entered her own. "That won't be necessary, John. I can handle things here. I was interested in taking another look at the dogs in a bit. They were acting bizarre earlier." Head tilting, she offered him a smile.

"If you say so." Shrugging, he made for the door. "Have a good day, Annette."

"You too…" Mrs. Birkin said, opening William's lab journal on the computer to begin documenting her husband's meticulous notes. Her thoughts wandered a bit while her impossibly long fingers tapped away at the keyboard, back to what had happened a couple days prior. The terrified look in Dick's eyes was still haunting her. She honestly was just waiting for the floor to give out from under her. That moment never came, however.

' _Irons is a professional'_ , she reminded herself again, even if he came off as a completely useless moron in every other aspect of his existence.

The screams and pleas for help that echoed the tunnels left Annette shaken. So shaken, that the female scientist had spent a decent amount of time outside of the Umbrella chemical plant chain smoking before hauling herself into the car to go home.

It wouldn't have been possible…if Annette hadn't taken up the task of personally coordinating everything. Bold moves were not something the boys were used to doing out of nowhere and at a moment's notice. They were reactive where she was proactive. This hadn't been about money. No, this was a vendetta that the female Birkin had held close to her heart. To get out from under Umbrella's thumb alive meant everything to her.

The boys were always the front men… she preferred their shadows. All she had to do was wait for the perfect time to strike. It really had awoken a very dark and paranoid side within the blonde woman. A side she put back to bed the moment she began shutting down the computer.

None of it mattered now. No, it didn't matter now. It was over.

* * *

"… _Arklay was a haven for eccentrics. In order to thrive there, you were required to be slightly mad."_

— _Albert Wesker, Wesker's Report II_


	25. Chapter 25

 

_Theme: The Road—Nick Cave & Warren Ellis_

* * *

It'd begun to snow around noon, the only people on the streets being the guys pushing snow. One long and boring holiday spent at the office, it'd been time for a drink.

Two long necked beers were set on the bar between the duo of S.T.A.R.S. members. "On the house, you two," Joan was already retreating to the back with a bar towel over the shoulder of her black sweater before Chris or Jill could even thank her.

"Looks like they're going to be swamped tonight," Chris' comment was followed by the brown glass bottle lifted to his lips. "Everyone hiding out from visiting relatives."

Valentine wasn't in much of a mood for drink, turning the bottle by its neck between her fingers. "Just think, a few hours ago they were sharing how grateful they were for one another around a Thanksgiving table."

Chris' boyish grin erupted on his face after she said that. "So what was the deal with Irons?" A hand sliding the tray of peanuts to him, Redfield cracked one open.

"Dad's gone." She replied, finding use for the beer after all. A long pull taken, she sighed.

"Shit." Chris popped the peanut into his mouth. "From the look on your face, I'd guess he didn't bother to say goodbye either."

She shook her head, and then remembered, "Why is it that Irons hates Joan so much?"

A wide and flawless grin spread across Chris' face. "You really wanna know?"

* * *

Metal door swung open, Chris led the way into the back alley. "Freeze, pot head!" He pointed a finger at the woman sitting on the trash can next to the door.

Joan's eyes rolled, a middle finger presented. "Blow me, pig." The air around her was permeated with the stench of marijuana. "What's up?" Her voice was strained as she held in her air.

Arms folded, Chris glanced to the woman closing the door to the alley. "Jill hasn't heard the story about why you're the saint everyone at the RPD prays to when Irons is looking to wreck their day."

Jill gave the pony tailed brunette girl a small wave.

Under a snicker, Joan waved back. A plume of white smoke escaping her lips, she smiled. "Oh, the story of Joan of Raccoon against the tyranny of Brian the Fat is a tragic tale." She jumped to her feet, the trash can banging against the ground as it spilled open. Somewhere in the dark a dog began barking. "Ah, shit. Oh well, I'll make the bus boy clean that up. So, anyway… It goes like this: I joined the RPD in 1992 as a traffic cop. It wasn't a bad gig, I was rising fast. I transferred to the K-9 unit and did pretty well with them, and then it came time to consider me for promotion."

Chris took a seat on the stoop.

Another long drag taken from her joint, the woman paused. "Irons didn't want women to rise above sergeant, let alone ever becoming a detective in his police department. Fat sexist shit thinks women should be barefoot, pregnant, and unable to cry 'rape'. He used to beat on his old lady too." She made a dismissing gesture with her hand. "Enough about that though. About two years ago was when I was being looked at for promotion. He canned it immediately. He did the same to four of my female peers too."

"That's blatantly sexist." Jill stated, pulling at the label lining the neck of her drink.

"Yeah, it is." The Piper girl retorted, hands reaching up to smooth away some unruly locks of brown. "Anyway, we started digging around. It turns out that Chief Irons had his hands in several cookie jars. You know the Cedar district? That fat fuck was part of the land grab that put a lot of people on the streets. Categorized it as commercial land, Umbrella bought every inch and started throwing up building after building. They brought their own people in from elsewhere, so no new jobs. Crime jumped in Raccoon City, and it was all people just trying to feed their kids with no money to be made. He had the boys in blue loading them up, dumping them off in Stone Ville so the mayor would shut up. All their kids were taken, so who knows what happened to them. He's a heartless fuckwad and it's  _ **my**_  fault that he's not behind bars."

Valentine's expression streaked alarmed as the Piper girl sat down on the tipped trash can. Breath fogged, Jill finally dared to ask, "What happened?"

Joan was silent, looking off in the dark of the alley. Shoulders sagging, she bowed her head with a sigh. Her side profile was hard to read in the dim street lamp above, but she couldn't hide the shame she felt. Her shame was a burden she'd been carrying for a long time.

"She pissed hot," Chris answered from behind his folded hands. "DA didn't think they could prosecute him when the officer making accusations also happens to be one that was recently fired by Irons for drug abuse."

Piper flicked the remnants of her joint over the fence. Her voice cracked as she spoke, "Umbrella started hiring people as soon as the riots became violent. Everything started going back to normal. The other females managed to get promoted eventually. I think the threat of feminists roaming Raccoon City was enough to make the fat man submit." Her hands dug into the pockets of her jeans. "So, if Irons ever tries to talk to you about 'duty' or 'justice'… He's a fucking liar who only wants to control his little 'Pleasantville'." She looked to Jill with a hard expression. "Him, the mayor, all of these big shots…"

"They're all fucking liars. Every last one of the top tier for city officials and in the PD…All of them are fucking cheats and liars." Chris noted softly.

Jill sighed a bit, lifting her beer to her lips.

Joan popped her lips twice before replying. "One isn't." She could almost feel Chris rolling his eyes, and it caused her to snicker. "I know you two haven't ever kissed and made up, Chrissy, but why won't you even try? Sending flowers goes a long way."

"It's not likely to ever happen." He climbed up, already retreating inside. "I need to piss. Have fun this weekend in Delucia meeting Brad's parents, Joan."

Valentine just shook her head, rising to her feet. "So cranky."

Piper nodded. "Yep, that's Chris." Standing as well, she darted a stare down the alley before speaking. "Don't worry though, he's a good guy. He'll watch your back."

* * *

"William burned the tofu turkey his mother brought for Thanksgiving. I've never been happier having a gas stove that reads wrong." Annette commented, steamy breath rolling from her red lips in the chilly night air. "She and Sherry are watching movies, so we thought it would be a great idea to drag you two out of the house."

The scraggly blonde ahead of them opened the door wide to the Elephant Bar. "We would have invited you both 'Trick or Drinking' on Halloween, but you were occupied trying to keep the drunks off the streets. This works better, we might get to see a chimp come running out of the kitchen." His comment might not have been far off; they were only a stone's throw from the zoo.

Albert held the door as William and Annette passed in. Peering back, he gazed at the woman divided by the light of the entryway and the dark of the night.

Her expression was almost sullen.

"Jill?"

Attention snapping back to reality, she hugged her gray wool long coat to fast against her chest as she walked in. "Sorry. I was just…thinking."

At the table, she did more of that while an untouched salad sat in front of her.

' _Everyone else is having such a good time…'_

Annette laughed suddenly at something said, ashes of her cigarette flicked into the tray at the table.

William tried to balance a straw between his upper lip and nose, still a child at heart. He laughed when Annette stole the straw. "Hey! That's mine."

Albert's hand coming to rest on her thigh was fleeting, a confused and almost hurt look climbing his features as Jill slid from her seat and made her way briskly toward the bathroom.

The Birkins exchanged a look, simultaneously gazing between each other at the retiring form of Jill Valentine.

"Is she okay?" William's question was followed by his confused and freckled face turned back to Wesker for an answer.

"Her father still hasn't made contact." An annoyed look filled the blonde's face. "I'm surprised that you went through helping him."

"I didn't." William sounded surprised at the accusation, brushing a digit against an unseen irritation on his cheek. "He never showed. Didn't you read the report from the very long interrogation I received?"

Skeptical eyes stared back at him.

"I'm serious, he never showed up. It's like he just vanished into thin air." He watched Annette get up and proceed in the same direction the other woman went. "I'm still running scenarios through my head trying to figure out how he got away."

"I haven't deciphered what has happened either." The tips of Albert's fingers tapped against the cloth on the table. His steel blue eyes followed Annette's back all the way to the restroom.

* * *

Jill's mask had faltered. She was left drowning in a pool of her own tears on the lavish couch crammed in the back corner of the restroom. A few women came and went, none offering anything more than a sympathetic glance to the stranger. Now, she was alone with her own sorrow.

' _Why did he just leave? Everything was going to be okay. He was being reviewed for parole… I would have gone with him!'_

Swallowing the confusion, anger, and pain; she picked at the hem of her dress. So many unanswered questions were storming in her mind. The rain came as agony squeezed its jaws around her heart again.

The door swung wide, the unmistakable click of heels against marble following after. Annette peered around the corner to the young woman. A slim fist knocked against the wall before she approached. "Hey, are you alright?" Her voice was soft, expression sympathetic.

Jill nodded, wiping away mascara with an unsteady finger. She watched the other woman step into one of the stalls, retrieving a round of toilet paper. "Thanks," the brunette sniffed sharply. Once the roll was in her hand, she began to tear off a length of it.

Parking next to the younger woman, Annette went for her cigarettes in her clutch. Offering one over, she lit up. A plume of white was high in the air before she spoke. "What happened?" She played the fool for this game.

Jill made a gesture of uncertainty, hand clapping down on her knee after. "He just…left. Not a word to me, not a word to anybody. I can't believe he'd just leave me behind…"

The blonde nodded, lounging with long legs crossed at the ankles. To some extent, Annette did feel guilty for what had been done. Self-preservation was paramount, as was Sherry's survival. Even in light of that, she could not ignore the desire to relate to the woman sitting next to her. "My father took off when I was thirteen." Her eyes met Jill's. "He just left, no warning, not even a goodbye."

The brunette nodded slowly, dabbing away a few tears that had managed to streak down her face. "What did you do?"

"When I got older, I…decided that I wasn't going to let what he had done…impact my life. I still had my mother, my friends, my dog…It was his loss that he didn't want to be part of that," cigarette ash dumped right on the carpet she continued, "It wasn't my fault that he left. Your case is no different. It's not your fault. You have a lot going for you. You have people who care about you."

A deep sigh from Jill and she was unwinding more paper from the roll.

"You have one who loves you too." Annette's lips cracked into a smile as she heard Valentine's nervous laugh. "What's so funny?"

"That… That word… 'Love', it doesn't fit." She was grasping for more, but came up short.

"It doesn't fit who, him?"

Jill nodded, wiping her nose.

Annette had to agree to some amount. Wesker in love sounded like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. "Maybe… Still, you have a life here. It's not extravagant or luxurious, but it's yours. Yours to do with as you please." A gentle hand on the girl's shoulder and Annette climbed to her feet.

"I guess you're right."

"I am right. You will get through this, and you'll be stronger than before." A little cocky in tone, a bright grin swept across the blonde's face as she offered Jill a hand. "Now, let's get you cleaned up and back out there."

Foggy blue colored eyes shifted upwards as they returned, and Wesker's entire form shifted to give the brunette room. "You two telling secrets in there?" An arm draped across the back of the seat, his long digits brushed over the woman's bare shoulder.

Annette met his gaze with a smug grin. "Yes, we were telling secrets in there."

"Well, I wanna know." William retorted, elbow on the table with a hand supporting his head.

"We can't tell you." Jill followed Annette's lead. "It's for the 'Girls Club' only."

"No boys allowed." The blonde woman's voice followed right after, winking to her counterpart.

The two men exchanged a look.

"Well, we're not boys. We're lesbians." William poked his wife with an elbow, brows popped.

There was no objection from the blonde across from the Birkins, nursing a drink.

"Ugliest lesbians I've ever seen." Annette's deadpan tone and expression faded to laughter as both gave her an offended look.

"That was rude, Annette!" William scooted as far away from her as he could, dodging her attempt to snag his arm at the crook of his elbow. "No! That was just cruel! How dare you call me ugly?!"

"You're not so hot yourself, Grandma. Where do you shop? Nursing Home Apparel?" Albert caught the cloth napkin thrown at him.

Jill sunk in her seat, a hand covering her red face as she tried to contain her laughter when the cell phone on the table began to ring. "Who's that?"

"It's probably Johnny Bravo demanding his hairstyle, sunglasses, and personality back." Annette didn't even have a chance to react before her cloth napkin was thrown in her face.

William buried his façade in his hands, shaking with laughter.

Strolling off, Albert quietly answered his phone. "Wesker?"

"I can see you. I'm at the bar." Ada hung up the phone without giving the blonde a chance to reply. She loved doing that. It irritated him. As soon as he stood next to her, she sighed. "Keeping her that close? That's not like you at all."

His graying blue eyes dared her to say another word on the matter.

The onyx haired woman cleared her throat. Apparently she had hit a nerve. "Don't fret; I am merely making an observation." A slim digit graced with a ruby red nail slid a napkin towards Wesker. "Here, another man interested in your endeavors. His name is Javier Hidalgo."

Lifting the edge of the napkin, he glanced at the disc concealed between its fold. Into his jacket pocket it went. "Valentine's employer?"

Ada nodded. "He was, until Mister Valentine fell from the face of the Earth. Dick never made it to South America. The rumor Hidalgo heard was that Umbrella got to him first. Such a shame, he's occupying an unmarked grave somewhere." A sip taken from her drink and the fine featured female continued, "He's claiming that Valentine was stealing dead end bio-weaponry from Spencer. Other companies were buying from him to play catch up. Now that Hidalgo has lost his supplier, he was hoping we would pay him a visit." There was something inviting in her soft voice.

An amused sound escaped Wesker. "You've been a very busy girl, Ada." His eyes shifted toward the sound of William laughing. He could see the table from where he stood: Annette and Jill with eyes focused on the scruffy scientist in the midst of another fantastic tale in Virology. Snore. Fingers drumming against the bar, he was lost in his thoughts for the longest time. "Unfortunately…I can't leave right now. I'll have to take a rain check on vacationing with you until I am certain of the fate of my former benefactor, Mr. Valentine. "

"Shocking," she uttered, cash dropped on the bar. "I'll be in touch as soon as I land in South America. Christmas on the beach seems like my kind of life anyway." Sliding from her seat, an empty smile enveloped her features. "Have fun babysitting in this frozen hellhole."

Albert watched her leave, making his way back to the table amid the busy establishment.

She seemed almost disappointed: an odd thing for a woman like Ada Wong to be.


	26. Chapter 26

 

_Theme:Phantom Limb—Eightfourseven_

* * *

"We're ready to begin." Ellen Smith told John as he passed by the table. She switched her gaze to Wesker across the examination table with a smirk. "I'm surprised you haven't tried asking me on a date yet."

Albert carefully gathered the syringe from the tray next to him. "I'm surprised you care. Considering how many times you shot me down,  _doctor_ ," He replied in his usual monotone voice. A final glance to the vitals on the monitor and he turned his stare back to the table. "It's time, Lisa."

' _Closing the book on you…has been long overdue.'_

The restrained mess of a woman on the table merely looked toward the ceiling, hardly moving aside from her ragged breath. Sodium thiopental had calmed her down. The smell permeating off of her was terrible, face draped in flaking skin that didn't belong to her. The most repulsive being in the world to Wesker…yet he never would have gotten far without her.

She had reached out, suddenly grabbing to the hem of Albert's jacket when he began the injections. The man had gotten too close to her grasp finding a good vein. Everyone in the room froze. Everyone held their breath. They expected the worst out of him.

William stumbled out of his chair at one of the consoles, papers previously in his grasp fluttering helplessly to the floor. "Albert, watch it she—"His words died right there in his mouth as his longtime friend made a dismissive gesture.

"You always were her favorite…" Ellen just shook her head, handing over the last injection.

Wesker ignored the remark. He finished quick, ensuring the last hit the best vein for delivering the final part of the fatal cocktail. In front of all, Wesker's latex shrouded palm wrapped around that of Lisa's. His expression was unreadable as always, steel gray orbs gazing down at the lone iris of hers that peered up to him from under the latest creation for a shroud. His free hand stretched further, running along her arm and shoulder.

A sound gurgled from her throat as she began to fade away. Eye closing shut, her body relaxed on the table.

They were in their own world; the scientist and his subject.

Everyone could hear their own pulses as they watched.

When she was gone, he let go.

"Albert?"

William's stunned expression went ignored as the blonde stripped off his latex gloves with a snap. He dumped them in the bin and exited lab.

' _Goodbye, Lisa.'_

* * *

They waited three days. Three long days spent pacing the halls of the old facility where both had carved their names into the history of Umbrella.

Shoulder to shoulder, William and Albert walked the halls of that old place while they waited those three days to ensure her vitals stayed flat. The musty smell of age was pungent in every corridor. They occasionally stopped to reminisce about the past when catching a glimpse of a picture hung on the wall. The younger versions of themselves stared back, blank and expressionless under the glass of the picture frame.

The walk down memory lane was broken by William's question. "What time exactly were you going to be dropping by tonight?"

"Probably around seven, I'd imagine. That's assuming nobody tries to beat their spouse in the front yard or hold up a grocery store over a lack of cranberries in a can." Long fingers reached out to open the front doors.

The mansion behind them, snow crunched under their tread. The woods were a place of reflection, where thoughts of infinite possibilities had sprung from William's mind when he was younger.

They were also a place for thoughts of infinite disasters to Albert; where just how far their creations could go, would be destruction for mankind. "How is Sherry?"

William looked up from the path ahead of them. "Oh, she's doing alright. Her Sunday school group put on a little play yesterday."

"Did you go?" Dark sunglasses hid Wesker's anticipation for a response of 'No'.

"I did, actually. It was cute. For the first time in a long time…I felt like a dad." Hands fishing into the pockets of his coat for some gloves, William laughed a bit. "You look surprised."

"I am quite surprised, William. Usually I am bombarded with excuses or you go into a long recount of your recent creations." His gaze shifted in the direction from which they came.

William dropped his voice to almost a whisper. "Has she heard anything from the old man?"

Wesker shook his head. "Not a word. Given all previous patterns of behavior, I'd say he's dead. I've cut my losses in that regard. Oddly, his death works to our advantage."

"How could that even give us an edge? Without him, you're going to have a hard time convincing her to help us."

"Without him, William," Pale blue eyes peered over the rim of his lenses," I'm the only thing she has left."

Birkin just shook his head, a fog of breath escaping his mouth as he spoke. "That might not be enough unless you're planning on… Oh no. No, no, no, no…" His realization was met with a cruel grin from his counterpart. "There is using her and then there is destroying her when we disappear. Going that far is immoral even for my tastes. Plus it's…unneeded baggage. God help us if another one of you is running around."

"I never said a word about marrying her, William. I have no desire to either." A glance toward the helicopter hovering near the helipad of the estate and Wesker let his own air out to billow in a cloud. "Trust me, William."

* * *

Six o'clock, and Wesker was quickly losing his patience with an irate Christopher Redfield on the phone. "Slow down! Now, in your big boy voice, tell me again what is wrong."

"We need you down here at Raccoon City General Hospital. Chief Irons is losing his mind and some lunatic is holding hostages."

He hung up with a sigh, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. It was going to be another long night. He should have been used to long nights by now. The blonde half thought of changing out of his black sweater and slacks, but there was no time to bother with that. The idea of another break spent with degenerates was going over like a fart in church.

' _Don't idiots ever take a holiday?'_

* * *

The entropy of squad car lights, people, and screams of frightened souls was hard to tune out as Wesker stepped out of his car. The air itself was electrified with fear. Flashing his badge, he stepped past the line of police trying to keep concerned citizens in some sort of order. It wasn't hard to spot Chris, who was talking to a woman wrapped in a wool blanket in the back of the only ambulance in sight. He waited; a black splotch in a sea of uniforms coming and going.

Chris uttered thanks to the woman before noticing the captain and approached. He never lost stride with Wesker once he caught up. "Alright, Miss Kathy claims the first guy came in three days ago with flu like symptoms. They put him in a room to keep him hydrated and comfortable. The other four showed up today with flowers and claiming to have brought a bag of clothing for him. About an hour ago they took the head surgeon hostage and demanded a few nurses help them rig the bombs on the second floor. One refused and lost her head. Kathy fled through the fire escape but sprained her ankle in a fall. Nobody else has made it out from that floor."

Wesker's brows shot straight up as they walked. "How many hostages?"

"Twelve, and apparently there are kids." Chris flipped his notebook shut as the captain quietly cursed. "How do you wanna do this?"

Darting a stare towards Irons yelling orders from the hood of a squad car, Albert could feel the situation deteriorating already. The chief didn't do well with pressure and it was starting to show to every cop within the area. "Fast and quiet, there's a service entrance through the sewers. The power company used it to install new lines into the grid back in '87." Leading the way toward the team's vehicle where Barry Burton was sitting on the tailgate of, Wesker stripped off his coat.

"Alright, we three can go in. Joseph is on his way still. Brad is out of town. I still can't get Jill on the phone. I have no idea where she is." Chris caught the vest tossed to him by Burton, unzipping the front. "She's been distracted a lot lately."

"Well, we can't have that tonight. It's probably best that she's AWOL if her head isn't in the right place." Wesker dropped the bullet proof vest over his shoulders, zipping and pulling the straps along the waist to fit it snugly. Shoulder holster system dropped over that, he adjusted it to fit over the vest. "Three works best anyway, we'll be in and out."

Barry nodded, chambering a final round into his Colt Anaconda. "What about Irons?" The clack of the revolver's cylinder sliding into place hit the air before the burly man holstered the weapon.

Wesker looked up behind his dark frames toward the crowd gathered at the front of the entrance for a moment. A thought finally occurred to him and his skull snapped towards Redfield. "Where's Speyer?"

* * *

Enrico's left hand worried at his brow while the other was almost numb with holding a flashlight over the floor plans spread out over the hood of the squad car. "I just don't see how we can sit here and wait, Chief. Everyone who managed to get out is saying these guys are shooting people left and right."

"We just arrived, Marini. No demands have been made yet, and we don't have eyes on that floor. We need to sit tight until they make contact with us for what they want." Irons said firmly, beady eyes narrowed. "I have experience with hostage situations, believe it or not. I'll be damned if I risk officers. Everyone had better sit tight until I give the order."

"Roger, Chief." Marini was too tired to argue. His brows shot straight up as Forest approached. "What's wrong?"

With hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket, Forest let out a sigh. "Nothing, I'm just admiring how well Chief Irons is working under pressure." Sauntering behind the pair to the other side of the squad car, he peered over the floor plans. "It takes a strong mind to think clearly during all of this."

"Well…thank you, Forest." Shock and quiet filled the chief's voice as he spoke. "I've handled many hostage situations over the years. We just need to sit tight until they make contact."

"What was your first one like?" The dark haired youth was oddly interested.

The chief hesitated with a rugged hand running against the nape of his neck. "Well, it was several years ago…"

Enrico shot Forest a confused look, only catching the member of Bravo Team returning the glance with a sly grin.

"I have a feeling I'm going to regret asking Speyer to keep Irons busy." Wesker uttered, dipping the crowbar's neck into a hole of the sewer cover.

"I'm sure it'll only set you back a case of beer and covering his ass, Captain." Barry replied with a chuckle. He cast his flashlight's rays down into the sewer below. The smell was almost overwhelming to the burly man, a hand raised to stifle a cough. "Smells like backed up death."

"Smells like Christmas Eve at the academy." Chris joked, first to descend into the dark passageway below. Flashlight clicked on, he waved them down.

Wesker followed, dropping the last few steps to the cement of the walkway. Even he couldn't ignore how terrible it smelled, a hand covering his mouth and nose. "Christ, they couldn't have selected a worse day to pick a fight."

Barry laughed, crouched over the man hole. The feeling of being watched overtook his senses, eyes lifted to meet Enrico's about one-hundred feet away. Giving his longtime friend a thumb's up, Burton began his own descent, guiding the man hole cover back to its resting place.

A deep sigh escaped Marini. Once again, he was missing all the fun and forced to listen to Brian Irons' glory days.

' _I don't get paid enough for this.'_

* * *

The service entrance hadn't been hard to find, even in the dank darkness of the sewer. Wesker seemed to know exactly where he was going, which was helpful as far as the other two men were concerned. A dispute of his intimate knowledge was chalked up to nothing more than dead reckoning. Backs pressed against either side of the door, Chris and Barry relieved their holsters of weapons.

At an angle to the door, weapon drawn, Albert checked the magazine once before nodding to Chris. "I'll take point."

Burton clicked the hammer back on the behemoth that was his firearm with a grunt. He nodded to Chris. "Moon's out."

"Goons out," Chris replied, twisting the knob and letting the door swing wide.

First in, Wesker was quick to observe the desertion of the generator room. Inhaling through his nostrils, he was rewarded with a breath of fresh and cool air. The blonde led the way towards the grated stairwell. Each footstep on the steel steps sounded ridiculously loud as they ascended.

It was too damn loud for three men trying to be very quiet.

' _Is it? Or are you imagining that it's loud?'_

A distant sound of gunfire muffled above.

Pausing short, his right hand lifted above his shoulder in a fist.

Everyone froze in their tracks. The only sounds to be heard were their own throats swallowing down the itching fear of being ambushed.

Steel blue eyes narrowing their gaze, Wesker began to move again. Up the next flight and they were at the door. A stale brown sign greeted them that they had arrived on the appropriate floor.

' _The maternity ward? Why am I even surprised that these idiots would be hiding behind infants?'_

Quietly, Wesker spoke over his shoulder. "Keep visual contact when possible, move fast and low. Locating the bombs is our priority and disabling them." He grasped the knob, and gave it a twist.

The door swung wide as the three crept in. The captain heading straight, the other two swiftly made their way in opposing directions down the hall.

* * *

The nursery was dark as Chris approached the glass, ducking out of sight. The muted sound of crying from infants, and what only could have been one of their caretakers, made him wince. The brunette dared a peek, seeing only one nurse inside. Roughed up beyond belief, she was trying to soothe one of the little ones. Behind her in the dark, the flash of a bomb's trigger blinked in red. Swallowing hard, he crouched low once more. Everything in him burned white hot. He had to keep it together tonight. There could not be mistakes. Working up the nerve, he retraced his steps to the door and slid inside quietly.

* * *

Barry passed the nursery's ICU, coming to a stop next to the wall nearest to the beginning of the next hallway. Taking a glance back to the glass peering in, he let out a deep sigh. Two dead inside, their corpses were drowning in a sea of sanguine. As much as he wished he could help them, all the burly man could do was make a mark for Chris to find when he came sweeping back. The flashing red light within was all he needed to see to know an explosive hid within.

' _Keep moving, old man.'_

* * *

Wesker sped past an abandoned hospital bed, sliding to a stop at the next hallway. Peering down both ways, he began to slip eastward. The soft sound of boots was behind him, drawing nearer. Only one pair, however.

' _Barry is coming up. Redfield must have found one.'_

Back pressed against the wall, he managed to look down the next passageway. To his surprise, three of them were present.

None of the men bothered covering their faces, which was troublesome. In his experience, the blonde couldn't count a single time that people, who were expecting to live after such a standoff, didn't conceal their identities. They began moving toward him, relaxed and unaware. A few gunshots behind them caused the three to stop and look back behind them briefly.

Back in the hallway, Wesker was quick to slip into the first available door. In the men's room, he was hoping to not have company. The flickering fluorescent above hummed in the silence as the captain planned his next move.

' _The other two can avoid that roaming group easily, though we should probably put them down before…'_

A sudden cough from one of the stalls caused the blonde to jerk his head in the same direction. A sly expression lifting onto his features, Albert simply reached over and flicked off the light.

"What the fuck? Benny is that you? Quit fucking around, I can't see!" Someone roared, stumbling out of the stall in the pitch black of the bathroom.

Wesker let off a small sigh, stepping backwards from the switch and sitting on the sink bar. A hand went to a pouch on his harness, drawing out the silencer. All the while the man stumbled and felt around in the darkness, cursing up a storm, Albert just fixed the silencer to his handgun. Lifting the weapon, he waited.

"What the hell, Benny. Stop fooling around!" Light switch flicked on, the onyx haired man turned around.

The florescence struggled to come on, flickering only brief moments of light before darkness was forced to reveal its hidden assassin. Wesker clicked the hammer back on his pistol, eating up every bit of the utter shock on the goon's face.

"You're not Benny." He paled; almost looked as though he had just witnessed a phantom appear before him.

Albert's lips twisted into the cruelest grin imaginable. "No, Benny sent me in here to tell you to hurry up."

The felon's blood ran cold and made the mistake of reaching for his own weapon.

The silencer barely made the Samurai Edge purr louder than a kitten. Weapon lowered, Wesker let out a sigh. Despite how well prepared he was, this was a high stakes game.

The dark haired man just bled out on the floor before him, a smoking hole in his forehead.

Unscrewing the silencer, the blonde's head lifted at the sound of a booming shot.

' _Barry.'_

Stepping over the corpse of his latest kill, Wesker abandoned the restroom.

* * *

Chris had managed to get a little information out of the nurse. There were three bombs in all. He'd succeeded in diffusing the one in the nursery, and the one in the ICU. Crouched down under the desk of a cramped office, Redfield feverishly worked to dispose of the third. A final wire yanked and the light went dark. Somewhere in the distance he heard the sound of Barry's Colt. Seconds later, he heard Wesker's Samurai Edge. Head sinking between his shoulders, the brunette let out a sigh.

' _Thank God.'_

* * *

"Give it up, pup." Barry barked. His weapon trained on the man bleeding all over the floor amid an assortment of whimpers and tears. Stepping forward, his boot kicked away the rifle previously used to pepper holes in the walls.

At the end of the hallway, Albert peered into the main hall of the floor. A glance over his shoulder, the blonde found Barry Burton approaching. "Wait here for Redfield. I'm going in." Doors pushed aside, he didn't bother waiting for any reply.

It was a blood bath to say the least. Gore and bullet holes littered the walls of the room intersecting the wing. The floors were a mass grave. Corpses scattered the area, frozen in the horror of their final breath. A janitor laid dead next to an overturned mop bucket, blood more pink than red from mixing with the dirty water. A mother huddled over her child even in death.

It made the blonde dizzy to look. As soon as his boots touched the Umbrella symbol painted on the tile floor, a voice reached out from the dark.

"That's far enough. Stay right where you are."

' _Damn it.'_

He obeyed, stopping in the center of the red and white flower. Frosty glare set forward to the darkened hallway ahead, he waited.

"Drop your gun. Kick it away."

Albert didn't have to think on it, he just did it as the assailant and his last hostage crept out of the shadows of the hallway. Wesker immediately recognized the hostage.

' _George Hamilton, the humanist himself…'_

George…was having a very bad day. A splatter of crimson painted the front of his white button down shirt. He was caked in dried and flaking blood up to his elbows. Unruly hair and bloody nose, he would have given anything for the day to just end. So tired and so frightened, a few tears spilled down his passive features as the barrel of a handgun dug into the back of his skull.

The blonde S.T.A.R.S. captain's eyes clicked to the man behind him. "Why?" Irritation and anger sang through the single worded question.

"This place… They make monsters here." A nervous laugh echoed the derelict hall. "They took my wife…and my daughter." The voice of the unknown man strained from the shadows dividing him. "They took them and I never saw them again!"

Hamilton's eyes winced shut as the barrel pushed harder against the back of his cranium. "I tried to tell him that he must be mistaken… This is a hospital."

"Sounds like he thinks we're standing in Frankenstein's castle." Wesker's sarcasm was followed by the sound of a hammer being clicked back. "Alright, what do you want? Publicity, money, an escape route?"

"I want the world to know the truth. Umbrella is behind all of this. They are using people in their experiments!" The man's voice hissed in anguish.

"How is anyone going to believe that? You killed everyone here. Nobody is going to buy for a second that you're telling the truth." The surgeon caught in the middle bellowed. "You're just a monster looking to justify murdering innocent people."

Albert was quick to cut in before he lost control of the situation. Hamilton opening his maw again would no doubt end in violence. "Let's stay calm, gentlemen. How about a trade, hmm? You let the doctor go and I'll take his place." There was some silence on the other end of the room. "If you want us to believe you, then you need to give us a sign of good faith. Let him go, and we can discuss the matter further of getting…the truth out. A police officer is a far better bargaining chip than a doctor."

"Yeah…yeah fine," The weapon shined harshly as it was lowered from the back of George's head. "Get out of here, doctor."

Nobody needed to tell the brunette surgeon twice. He muttered his thanks to Wesker in passing. A 'don't mention it' followed him out the doors.

Only when they were alone did Wesker finally speak. "So where's the last bomb?" His stare met the barrel of the handgun and its mysterious owner hugging the darkness.

The other man chuckled softly. "I can't tell you that. Not yet anyway." Stepping into the light, the man gazed evenly at the captain. Disfigured would have been a mild explanation of his appearance. One milky white iris, a very marred nose, and sunken features twisted into the cruelest of wide smiles. "You recognize me now, don't you?"

' _I shouldn't have put it past the Dawn to react after we framed them… Shit, shit, shit.'_

Wesker nodded slowly, eyes narrowed as he stole a side glance towards his weapon. "Donald Anderson, it's been too long since we did this dance. How are things in 'Hippieville'?" He watched the man move, seeming to have followed the captain's stare towards his weapon. "I thought the Dawn of Heaven had better things to do than suicide bombing hospitals. Are we not paying enough attention to you and your little cult?"

"On the contrary, it seems someone is paying quite a bit of attention to us. In the past month, five of my church's members were arrested. Then my wife and daughter went missing." Scooping up the discarded Samurai Edge, the older balding man looked up to the blonde. "All trails lead to Hell, and that Hell is named Umbrella."

"You're out of your fucking mind, Donald. Your members killed thirty people. Maybe your wife wised up to how much of a lunatic you are and fled. Maybe you should accept reality. Acceptance is the first step in the recovery process." His own weapon turned on him, Wesker inwardly sighed.

"Watch your words, rat. She was dedicated to our cause and doing the work of Christ himself."

Albert bit the inside of his cheek to stall the reply he had for such a stupid statement. A nail scratching along his brow, he exhaled. "Fine, tell me how Umbrella is responsible for their disappearance and…whatever else you're claiming."

Stepping closer, Anderson laughed. "You always were so transparent, Wesker. You're so clueless about what they're doing right under your feet."

Albert knew full well what stood beneath their feet. Five hundred souls and countless dollars of research was just the beginning…

' _How did this idiot find out about the Hive?'_

"I know…many things. I have someone on the inside, you know." Donald pulled the hammer back on the Samurai Edge. "I know about the facility underground. I know about the T-Virus." He giggled a little at that. "I've done better investigative work than you, and I'm not even a cop."

All of it was dismissed with a snort. "Those ridiculous stories include unicorns?"

The cult leader's eyes darkened, a hand going into the pocket of his jacket. Dropping his own pistol into it, he chuckled. "No, it just involves every sin exposed. You won't have to worry too much about it…" He pulled the trigger, only to hear the click of an empty weapon. A look of complete and utter fury lit up on his face "You roach!"

Wesker could only smirk.

Doors swinging wide open, Christopher barged in right on schedule. Taking aim, he opened fire on the assailant.

Three shots and the man dropped in a heap, lying motionless on the tiled ground.

Gathering the weapon from the fallen fool, Wesker let out his air. "Now I remember why I don't carry extended magazines." He turned to look at Chris. "Thank you, Redfield."

Chris nodded, a weak smile exerted. "Anytime, Captain." Calm finally crept its fingers over his exhausted shoulders. A faint sound of music filled the void of silence. A familiar tune from his childhood, it reminded him of his old jack-in-the-box. His brow furrowed, a frown seating on his mouth. "What's that sound?"

The blonde looked around. "I don't hear anything."

The music suddenly stopped.

Without further warning, the wall behind Wesker exploded into a million shards of cement and plaster.

* * *

Everything was blurry, a shrill ringing sound the only thing he could hear. There was light and then there was dark. Neither were very good company and it was making him nauseated.

' _Stay awake. If you fall asleep, you're dead!'_

His eyes cracked open. George and Chris were over him. The prognosis: bad, very bad. Christopher looked scared.

The surgeon said something garbled and Redfield was up and moving fast where he could not see.

Terrible pain was riddling his entire body and the world was spinning from his grasp. Wesker's head rolled to the side, too heavy to control. His gray blue eyes shot wide open. There, at the end of the hallway in his view stood the shrouded and shackled form of his last victim: Lisa Trevor.

" _It's time, Albert."_  She echoed his words.  _"Always my favorite."_  Everything became a red haze as she turned and disappeared down another hallway.

Darkness stole him and his thoughts away after.

* * *

_"Man is the cruelest animal." -Friedrich Nietzsche_


	27. Chapter 27

 

_Theme: Sarajevo-Blackmill_

* * *

The eagle stone slid nicely back into the slot. The sounds of hidden mechanisms working greeted Jill's ears as she watched the hidden passageway reveal itself. The RPD was deserted when she had arrived, much as the woman expected. Christmas Eve, nobody was going to be around.

' _Especially Irons.'_

Feigning ignorance had paid off it seemed as she clicked on her flashlight. Nobody appeared to be the wiser to her prowling around. Casting the ray of light in first, she stepped down the dank corridor. Stone walls and wooden supports greeted her eyes. This place was older than the rest of the building. Mildew filled her nostrils.

' _William said this was the only way that didn't involve wading in sewage. This is all too strange. Why would he and Wesker need access to a secret passage? What were they doing down here? '_

She came to a stop at the door leading into the next room. Crouched, she unfolded her jackknife lock pick set.

' _You may find out more than you want…'_

Tumblers cooperating, she opened the door with some ease. The dim light of a few lamps in the room drenched the doorway. Door swinging wide with an aged creak, Jill peered around the room with fear scribbling on her face.

' _Is this a fucking dungeon?!'_

It may as well have been for all she knew. The work bench had three animal pelts draped over it, a few knives left in disarray of someone who had abandoned their task. The smell, God the smell was terrible. A mixture of dead animal, formaldehyde and the sewers almost impossible to breathe…

Reaching into the shadows along the undercarriage of the table, she pulled up a leather strap. A dark stain saturated up to the buckle, whatever had dried on it was flaking and crumbling like cold ash in a fireplace.  _'Blood.'_ She dropped it almost like it had just scorched her fingers. "Jesus…" She whispered softly, stare drifting to the other walls. She found the ladder leading down into was no doubt the sewer system. The smell alone told her that. There wasn't time to go down there this day. Rays of her flashlight cast over the shelving nearby, she slowly approached them.

The contents of the shelves were mostly jars. Only revealing their contents with the light of the flashlight cast over them, all seemed to be preserved animals in the sick little wall of trophies.

Jill stopped at the end of the shelves where a single box was carefully tabled along with all of the jars filled with assortments of 'Little Shop of Horrors' oddities. Flashlight set aside, she dared to open it and look in. Swallowing hard, she almost fell back against the table in a dizzy spell.

A preserved pair of hands drifted lazily in the container that had been tucked inside.

* * *

Outside of the RPD, Jill hugged her woolen coat tight to her chest on the way to her car. Everything in her was a firestorm of confusion, anger, and fear. If those hands had belonged to her father, he must have known something…something that Irons wanted silenced for eternity. She needed help.

' _No, I can't tell anyone. I…I don't know what to do. The secret passage…something was worth killing for. William…Albert… They couldn't possibly know. Could they? It doesn't make sense. They worked so hard to get us here and keep us safe. Dad was their friend…'_

Her own greenhorn had protruded like an ugly thorn again. Still, one question plagued her mind:

' _Am I next?'_

The snow flickering down in fluffy flakes offered her no answers in the quiet chill of the night. The sound of a voice calling her name caused the woman to jump. Turning, she blinked away a few flakes trying to cling to her eyelashes. "Forest?"

Forest Speyer donned in his usual jean jacket couldn't help but grin hearing her say his name. "Hey, I've been looking all over for you. We need to get to the hospital…like hours ago." He stopped in front of her, breath fogging from the chill.

"Why? What's wrong?" Jill's hands jammed deep into the pockets of her coat seeking warmth.

"I'm pregnant and my water just broke." He replied with a snicker at the confused look on her face. "No, Captain Wesker was hurt. Everyone else is already there. Where have you been?"

Her eyes dialed wide, stare wandering toward the road as a car passed. "I… I've been working on converting everything to computer format. I was just…" She lost the ability to form words as she looked up to him. "It's bad isn't it?"

Forest nodded slowly. "He's in really bad shape. Chris was there too but he wasn't hurt too much. The captain was thrown at him from the force of the bomb exploding."

"Bomb?!" Jill was already skirting towards Forest's beloved old mustang. "Did the world go crazy as soon as I buried myself in paperwork?"

"Almost," The dark haired youth cranked the engine after they piled in. "Don't feel bad. We've all been hiding from doing the conversion before the audit. You're the only one that seems to care enough to get it done. Chief Irons sent me to find you." Throwing the car in reverse, he pulled out of the parking spot.

A nauseating feeling rumbled her gut at the mention of the chief. "Yeah, well… I'm fine." Buckling up, she drug the pads of her fingers against her brow. "Captain Wesker is usually so careful…"

Forest sighed heavily as they passed through a green light. "Captain Wesker screwed the pooch on this one. He…went around Irons to try to get the hostages out. To be fair, all of us helped him do it too." Clicking the turn signal, he tugged the steering wheel to the left to make the appropriate turn. "It sucks, you know. Irons was just going to let everyone in there die. We had two surviving adults and a nursery full of babies." Dragging a hand over the stubble along his mouth and chin, the brunette looked over to her. "We wouldn't have even had that without Wesker, you know?"

Jill nodded, numb from the inside out without the heater kicked on in the car. "I know, Forest." She replied quietly, watching the snow coming down on the world outside.

"I feel guilty… We all should have been in there. It shouldn't be up to him to shoulder Irons being a fat and stupid pile of garbage requiring babysitters." He missed the turn to the hospital, cursing quietly. Another block and they made the proper turn.

* * *

The outside of the hospital was a complete and utter mad house. As the pair approached the police line, badges were shown. They were allowed to pass the chaos of terrified people, the strobe of lights, and news vehicles. Somewhere in the madness, a woman reporting some half assed story about what had happened could be heard in the warble of entropy.

Jill pitched her gaze up as Forest pointed something out to her. The windows out of the second floor facing the street had been blown out. Curtains helplessly fluttered in the breeze as snow invaded. It all looked like something out of a horrible dream. She held her poker face tightly and followed him inside of the building. Glass crunched under their feet all the way in.

The main lobby was overrun with police, hospital staff, and crime lab workers. Voices shouted to one another in the madness. Cameras relentlessly flashed their lights over areas taped off for evidence gathering. A cop bolted out the door as the remaining two members of S.T.A.R.S. walked in.

The brunette woman kept to the back of Forest's jacket as they moved. He was a good tug boat, cutting a path right through the sea of bodies for her. At the far end, he shoved one of the double doors open and allowed her to pass ahead of him.

A brisk pace taken, Jill darted down the hallway to the next set of doors. The one she pushed open swung so hard its handle left a dent in the wall. She was too busy searching for some sort of direction. Her pulse was quickening, a desperation to get to her destination building hard and fast.

A nurse looked up from behind her station, brows high. "Looking for the police captain that was hurt? Take a left at the end of that hallway and go through the double doors. Everyone else is in the ER waiting room." She lifted the phone off its cradle as another call rang in. "Raccoon City General Hospital, this is Nurse Mathers."

Jill could only nod, following the clear path of the hallway pointed out toward her. "Thank you!" She managed to remember her manners halfway down the corridor. Hair whipped back, she slid to a stop at the T intersection of the hallway and burst through the doors not even ten feet to her left.

* * *

Barry was out of his chair as soon as he saw Jill, magazine dumped on the coffee table. The Colt Anaconda was still holstered on his shoulder harness. "Hey girlie, did you fall off the edge of the world?" He looked exhausted, a few bandages along his brow. Barry's burley arms wrapped around the woman's frame as she embraced him tightly. "Hey, I'm okay. I was on rear with the doctor when all Hell broke loose."

She honestly had thought she could hold all of it in. A strong front had carried her all the way up to that point. "What did…? What did they say? Has anyone been in yet?" Jill tried to choke back her distress, but it was a fool's errand.

Barry shook his head, keeping his voice as calm as possible when he replied. "He's still in surgery. Chris is fine… just laid up with a sprained wrist and a bruised ego." His hands came to rest on the brunette woman's shoulders. Concern stitched its way onto his features when the older man felt her shake beneath his touch. "The captain has been through worse. He didn't survive the crash and drag my fat ass out of ten miles of the most unforgiving trek of forest just to die from this."

Jill nodded, already picking her teeth with a white stone nail. "Yeah… I know." She whispered, finding a chair to park herself in.

Forest dropped down next to her, picking up a magazine from the coffee table. Vogue, what an odd choice for a man. "Wanna read about  _'The Eight Ways You Can Tell Your Relationship is in Trouble'_  and  _'Which Bitch Wore It Worst'_?"

She bit down so hard on her lower lip fighting a sob when he spoke she swore she drew blood. Tears welled and she let them streak as they pleased. "Sure." Jill answered quietly. An old habit, she pushed a few strands of brunette behind her ear.

* * *

Thirty minutes passed before Joseph and Ken made an appearance from outside with coffee and whatever they could rummage from the snack machine.

"It's a fucking circus out there." Ken commented as he took a seat across from Barry, Jill, and Forest. "Doctor stopped us in the hall. The one that you guys saved…Hamilton? He said to give everyone his thanks. I guess he's going in to assist with the surgery."

"He is?" Forest looked up from his magazine.

Joseph shrugged. "He was in scrubs, getting ready to wash up."

"Well, George is the best surgeon in town. That neurosurgeon, Howard Long, was called in as soon as everything happened." Barry checked his watch with a sigh. "Well… Merry Christmas, kids."

Everyone mumbled some sort of disgruntled response.

"That's it, you all get coal." He replied, trying to keep their spirits up.

Joseph just shook his head in disgust, gaze resting on the television above. "Anyone else notice Irons bailed?"

"Who gives a shit? The only thing he cares about is licking the mayor's boots anyway." Chris' voice replied to the question as the brunette limped to a chair. His left wrist was wrapped up in a brace already. "I am so full of morphine right now; I can't give a damn or feel my face."

"That makes you a cheap date." Forest said wolfishly. "You come here often?"

"Oh God, yes! I come here all the time, sweet cheeks." Chris' sudden graveled voice taking on a very high pitch caused a few snickers from the group. "We hear anything yet?"

"Not a damn thing," Barry was already reading the fishing magazine again. He looked up briefly as Jill left her chair. "Heading back to hide under your rock, kiddo?"

Something in that question almost ate Jill alive. She shook her head. "I need to call somebody."

* * *

Jill was picking at her nails again while she hovered by the doors leading into the ER. Twenty-five minutes after making the call and she was greeted by the sight of William Birkin waltzing through the door.

William stopped to kick the snow off his shoes and dust it out of his hair. Pale eyes finding Jill's huddling form against the near wall, he frowned. "Where is he?"

The brunette woman shrugged, almost indifferent within her numb shell. "They said he's still in surgery. Nobody has told us anything." She replied quietly.

A hardened expression filled the man's face. "That's about to change." Coat stripped off, he made his way over to the front desk. After a quiet chat with the nurse, he disappeared through the electronically locked doors on the far side.

At the end of the hall, William gazed through the small window of the door leading into the operating room. He could clearly see the surgeons, nurses, and other specialists hard at work. So many people all crowded around the broken body of his last living friend. A heavy groan released and William fought the lump in his throat. "Goddammit, Albert…"

* * *

He returned to the waiting room after an hour. Rubbing at his eyes, William sighed deeply as everyone approached. "They're still working. It doesn't look good at all. They removed two large pieces of cement from his back, and fortunately it didn't hit the spine. He's far from out of the woods." He realized he was worrying his hands and stopped. "You all should go home and get some rest." Quiet and not entirely sure how his body was moving, William dropped down into one of the chairs. Shock was not an entirely familiar feeling anymore for the veteran scientist. He watched as everyone slowly dispersed after receiving the news. As Valentine passed, his hand snatched out and grasped her wrist. "You're not staying?" He sounded alarmed.

Jill looked almost panicked, watching everyone else heading out the doors. "I… I just don't think staying here and waiting is going to help."

* * *

Door slammed wide open, freezing cold air rushed William as he led the way to the balcony of the hospital. He knew she was following. She wouldn't dare walk away now. Rage wrapped him up tight as he paced with hands folded to the nape of his neck. He was trying to contain every ounce of blind wrath that gnawed at its bit. Pale blue eyes adorned in sleepless bags jerked their stare up to her face. "Just what the fuck do you mean that waiting isn't going to help? Don't you even give a shit?" William barked. His voice was filled with hot iron.

"I do, Will. I do give a shit about what happens to him." Jill replied, her own voice devoid of all feeling. At the railing, her fingers rested on the frozen steel.

"So then, what is it? You're just going to walk out on him like your father walked out on you?" William was in her face in mere seconds.

"Just have a lot on my mind." Jill stated. Alice blue hues were suddenly aflame as she looked to the scientist.

Birkin frowned. "What could possibly be so pressing at this point?"

Swallowing hard, the brunette woman pitched her gaze over the railing. "I found Irons' little chamber."

William was silent. He hadn't even noticed that his jaw had dropped. He quickly corrected it. "That…he keeps a taxidermy room in the old cellar."

Jill's appraising eyes drifted their stare back over the city. She felt lead drop in her guts. "I think Irons killed my father in there. I heard…everything."

William chuckled a bit, pearly teeth exposed from snow rogued lips. His expression darkened as he turned to her, leaning a hip against the railing. He clapped his hands together once, collecting his thoughts. "Ah, so you were snooping. Well, Irons is all bark and no bite. He was lying. I'm not surprised that you're behaving like this. It's natural when someone has gone through as much trauma as you have."

She kept a wary eye on him as he moved.

Strolling casually around her, a thoughtful string arose on William's features. "You're probably wondering… 'Why did this happen?' Well, you know what your father was up to all these years. You can lie to yourself all day long and play it off in a casual tone. We all know what he is. He's not some hero. No, he's a thief: a professional cheat and a liar." He paused, looking over to her stationary form.

"My father wouldn't leave without telling me. He wouldn't abandon me."

William let off a shrug. "You can believe whatever you want, Jill. Right now, a man who actually cares about you and has never abandoned you is fighting for his life. I think instead of worrying about your father, you would do well to put your interests in someone who doesn't just vanish without a word."

Jill frowned deeply. "What if I could prove to you that Irons killed my father?"

William considered her proposal for a moment, wind causing his shaggy blonde locks to flutter in the chilled air. "If you can prove it, then I will help you all that I can. I promise you that. Going up against the police chief would not be a walk in the park. You know that. For now, it would be best that we let sleeping dogs lie. We should concern ourselves with the person who could die on an operating table and has been trying to keep this town from tearing itself apart." He uttered softly before pulling the door leading back indoors wide open. His thoughts were a tumultuous mess. If Irons had killed Valentine…he may have put the last nail in his own coffin.

* * *

George Hamilton could feel every pinch of overworked muscles lining his back as he walked down the hallway. It was the worst version of 'dead tired' he had felt in years. Ten hours of surgery on Christmas day, four hours of observation. His wife was not going to be pleased that he would be snoozing through another one of her father's yachting stories at the dinner table.

' _Do I care? Not really. She's the worst.'_

Door swung open, he approached a snoozing William Birkin in one of the chairs. The waiting room was deserted aside from two people in chairs and the nurse at the desk. "Hey Willy, I didn't realize you were here."

William's eyes cracked open, replying in a tired voice. "I'm on the list for next of kin. How is he?"

"Better than before, but it's too soon to tell what's going to happen. We're letting him come out of the coma now. There was massive internal bleeding. There was quite a bit of bleeding in the skull cavity. Howard and I did everything we could for now. Now, we just wait and see. He's far from out of the woods. Right now, our concern is damage to the brain. A vegetative state is no way to live."

Sore from sleeping in a chair not meant for that purpose, William forced himself to sit up straight. "Well, we'll just have to play with the hand of cards dealt to us."

"Did you want to see him?" George rubbed at his eyes a bit. "I can take you back if you want."

William pointed at the woman stirring from sleep across from him in another chair. "Take her."

Hamilton's brows rose. "Oh? Fiancée?"

The scraggly scientist almost laughed at the very thought. William scratched a nail across his jaw. "Yeah." His lips cracked into a half grin.

* * *

Jill stepped past the surgeon and entered the small room designated for patient recovery. The lights were off, though the glow of the hallway passed right in from the glass windows separating the two. She hugged the wall, sidestepping until the curtain gave way to the hospital bed and its occupant. Her hands pressed against her face as she finally saw him.

There were more tubes and wires than there was man lying in that bed. His skull was wrapped in white, not a hair to be seen. The bruising was dark along his face and throat. Even the flesh that peeked along his collarbone was dappled in cruel marks. An oxygen mask shrouded his face, though his gentle breath was visible from under the meager blanket. He didn't even look like the Wesker she knew. The soft sound of a heart monitor let her know he was still there and still with her, even in the worst of ways.

Slowly approaching, she lowered herself into the chair next to the bed. An unsteady hand grasped at his stationary one and squeezed. Fine details of the damage done met her eyes. Everything in her crumbled from there.

' _I let you down.'_

Huddled on the edge of the bed, she studied his long fingers. The hand lifted to her cheek, she quietly wept. "The doctors said you're still in danger." Her free hand traveled along his forearm. "I should have been there with you." Both hands enclosed around his motionless one briefly before one lifted to wipe away a few tears. "I'm so sorry."

No response from the bed, only the gentle blip of the monitor.

"I have my suspicions about Dad's fate. The truth is I lost Dad a long time ago…when Mom died. I knew… I knew Dad made his bed a when he started stealing and…falling into old habits. He would disappear for weeks and I could hear him shouting on the phone in the middle of the night sometimes. I've been holding onto a ghost for nine years. I think I mourned losing him a long time ago too…" Her personal revelation never received a reply. "I know you were trying to keep us safe. You try to keep everyone safe. It's like watching someone herd cats." She swallowed hard, gaze lifting to his face. Shame riddled her own. "You can't be Superman forever. You cannot be Superman all the time to everyone because it'll kill you." Long fingers reached out to brush along the skin free of mask or gauze. "I've been very selfish. None of it really hit me until I walked in here. I took you for granted. The only person who ever believed in me…"

A nurse passed in the hall, shadows casting in the light that poured in at the hem of the hospital curtain.

Jill couldn't keep her tears in check anymore, despite how she tried to file each emotion in an appropriate place to little avail. In the end her mind was still a pile of papers she was ready to just throw in the air. "You're a good man, Albert. I know you are because you're laying here. You were ready to die to protect this town. I know you're a good person." She choked on a broken laugh. "I'm a better person just by being around you. I'm…alive with you. I'm so alive and I can do anything as long as I have you. Just you… nobody else. Look what I've done. I've become someone because of you. Nobody else… just you." Her voice shrank as her stare followed her thumbs brushing over his knuckles. "They're going to pay for doing this to you. All of those whackos in the woods… there is nowhere they can run. There is no amount of holy water that can protect them." She uttered, voice shaking.

The quiet of the room was almost unbearable.

"Please know that I'm sorry…Please stay… Don't leave me here alone. Don't make me walk out that door to face the world alone." One last truth clawed its way from her lips in a whisper. "I love you."

* * *

William showed himself about four hours later with a cup of coffee. Opening the blinds, he allowed foggy gray light to shine in. Taking a seat in the vacant chair crammed in a corner, he sighed heavily at the headline of the newspaper within his grasp. Pale eyes diverted their stare briefly to the hospital bed.

Albert still slept, beaten and broken. He was ghostly, weakness visible on what normally were proud and sharp features. Habitually knife sharp gray eyes rested beneath bruised and swollen lids.

Curled next to him with an arm flung across his chest, Valentine laid motionless. Sound asleep, her ear rested against his chest. A steady heartbeat was the only sound she found peace in.


	28. Chapter 28

 

_Theme: Never Mess With Sunday—Yppah_

* * *

Brian Irons stroked his mustache slowly, dark eyes surveying the papers in his other hand. His stare shifted to Enrico Marini sitting across from him. "Alpha Team is pushing this, aren't they?"

Enrico nodded slowly, scooping up his coffee cup for a swig. "They included a few strategies they laid out. We're ready to move when you give us the go ahead."

Pudgy hand coming to rest on his desk, the chief's fingers drummed against the mahogany surface. "Let's hold off for now." He lifted a hand before Marini could protest. "Unfortunately, we're already spread thin between upping the security at the hospital and the checkpoint to and from the mountains. We'll revisit this after I have two captains again. For now, the measures implemented are the best we can do."

Enrico sighed deeply, disappointment an aura he couldn't shake. "Fine, we will revisit. Just know that you're not winning any favors or friends, Chief. Several people are dead, and who knows when Wesker is going to wake up."

* * *

The doctors let him rest for a day. On the second day, they wheeled him away once again. More x-rays, more findings, and more surgeries to mend what appeared to be more broken than body. Back under the surface he went; a dreamless state of black. What few dreams he did have were far from pleasurable. There were times he was under a torched sky, the sounds of chaos in all directions: gunfire, screams, and the howl of creatures that roamed the darkest corners of his spirit. Beneath his feet, countless corpses and their streams of blood made up the landscape. Their glassy eyes always followed him as he walked.

_Then there was that one…_

_Lisa in all her shackled glory and infamy would not leave him alone. When bullets failed, he killed her with his bare hands. He felt the life squeeze from her throat on more than one occasion. Over and over, she just would not_ _**DIE** _ _. She chased him for days, altercations growing more and more violent. No matter what he did or how violently he did it, she always came back. In the end, he hid away in his own head, a toppled king from his throne. She was never too far away, the sound of chains dragging always close…_

He emerged from his own Hades just before the New Year, and left the phantom of her behind.

* * *

Albert's eyes winced, blinking away at the light. "Do you really need to do that?" He asked; voice graveled from days of disuse. Pale as a sheet, he still hardly looked like himself as he gazed to William.

William shined the light away. "Yes, I do. It serves you right for putting yourself in harm's way like that. You're lucky you're not dead." His eyes fixed on the woman sleeping next to him. "Though I do have to say getting a woman to hop in bed with you when you're in a drug coma is pretty impressive."

Making a face at that, Wesker turned his head away. "Christ, William." He took note of the form snoozing in the corner of the room in the other chair. His sour expression dropped.

' _She's here?'_

With sleepless bags under her eyes, Jill looked exhausted even when she was soundly slumbering. Deep and slow breaths, she was lost in her own dream world under a leather jacket spread over her front.

' _My leather jacket… of course she's wearing it. I'm going to have nothing left for a wardrobe by the time she's finished with me.'_

Albert's expression smoothed out, an almost affectionate stare filling his eyes. Something in him unwound. He was…

' _Touched?'_

_No, never._

_Maybe._

"How long has she been here?" He asked quietly. A weak hand lifted to run against his head. Wesker hesitated, the pads of his fingers running over the gauze. His steel blue gaze shifted to William.

"She's been here all along. Since you were first admitted, she's been here every chance she's had…" William paused thoughtfully as he sat down in the empty chair next to the hospital bed. "She found Irons' version of 'Peewee's Playhouse'." He smirked at the perturbed sigh coming from the bed. "Irons offed Dick. She must have found something. She claims that she can prove he did it."

Albert let his head rest back against the pillow, a visible wince given. He felt every bit like he'd been beaten with a steel bat. The pads of his fingers lazily ran against the side of his face. Even moving his fingers hurt. He needed a shave. "We can concern ourselves with that later…" He uttered softly, eyes slipping shut.

"It's always later with you." William grumbled behind his newspaper.

* * *

He must have drifted off. Steel gray eyes opened to view a darkened room. Turning his head, the blonde grit his teeth. Everything he did just about gave him a headache.

William was gone and the chair crammed in the corner was empty.

Something about that gnawed at him. It still didn't deserve a name. He shoved it in the far back with Lisa Trevor and all the other unwanted things that frequented his head. Buzzing the nurse, he needed a refill on whatever was keeping him out like a light.

* * *

When he woke again there was light and there was her. His breath hitched. Brunette hair twirled around a finger and her floral perfume, she was as real as anything else. His entire space was invaded by her presence. She was reading, hunched over with her back to him. He couldn't see, but he had feeling it was another issue of  _'Women Have Nothing Better to Do'_. She always ended up so absorbed in those pages; everything else, to include sound, seemed to evade her. He could hear the flutter of a page turned. Albert lofted a brow, a sly hue filling his eyes. An arm stretched out against the shout of pain, the pads of his fingers sluggishly traced the nape of Jill's neck.

Letting off a surprised yelp, she jerked out of the chair like a cat out of water. A hand to her chest, Jill's cheeks burned crimson as she looked over her shoulder. "Not funny." She stated in a low tone, returning to her chair and turning it about. His soft snickering didn't improve her mood as she sat down. "Still not funny," irritation rang through the brunette's voice as she dumped the magazine on the bed. Beauty ads from Umbrella Inc. stared skyward.

His lips cracked into a half grin, endless amounts of amusement found in his eyes. "I apologize."

Air let out through her nose, Jill leaned forward. Stretching her arms before her, many strained muscles found relief. "Forgiven. How are you feeling?"

His stare shot to the ceiling. "Is 'warmed over death' an adequate description for you?"

She peered up to him, nipping down on her bottom lip in thought for a moment. "I'm glad you're awake."

Albert's eyes drifted closed once more. He felt almost dizzy. "So am I…" A hand gently pat the bed between them as his steel eyes lifted open to view her. "You should sit with me."

Jill hesitated, chair sliding back. Nails dragging her tresses of brunette back, she shook her head. "That wouldn't be appropriate." Her voice shrunk to a church mouse's size.

He laughed, pearly teeth exposed for the entire world to see. The blonde's lips tugged a little more at one side than the other. Suddenly the entire expression dropped under a pool of calm when she remained stationary. "Oh come now, dear heart, I don't care. The only people that are allowed to visit are you and William." His expression softened once more. "Come here…" There was something intoxicating and inviting in his voice, soft as silk. Fingers drug against the fabric lining the hospital bed, his brows rose curiously at so much reluctance on her part.

Her doe blue wells gazed up at him as her lips pursed.

"I won't bite?" He offered with a wolfish grin. "Scouts honor." He made a subtle gesture with three fingers. Two were wrapped in bandaging.

At last the brunette slid from her seat. "That's that Girl Scouts sign." Her lips twitched into a smile hearing his laughter. Crawling onto the small bed, she carefully rested her head against him. Shoes abandoned, her socked feet slid under the blanket. Nose nestled against the hollow of his throat, Jill felt some ease wash over her once his bruised arm was around her like a leathery and protective wing. "You're ridiculous."

"I am not. I merely requested you join me." Lips brushing against her forehead, he rested against her. An ache would not leave his chest. He let it burn until he felt nothing of it. "You stayed here the entire time?"

Jill nodded, staring off at the window. "I did as much as I could. I've been working late at night. Graveyard shift has been loads of fun." She didn't sound like it was. "Chris whines constantly about everyone making fun of his injury."

Wesker rolled his eyes. "I heard he only sprained a wrist."

She nodded to his statement. White nails pawing over the fabric of the hospital gown, she twitched as he prodded her hip. "Forest keeps taunting him that he can't jack off with a sprained wrist."

A look of utter disgust filled the man's face. He would have blamed it on the powerful medication the hospital was pumping into him if the thought ever crossed his mind. "That's an image I could have lived without." Albert leaned back against the propped bed. Weariness once again was enveloping him. "I want to go home."

"I want you to come home too." Jill uttered softly, careful as she rested her head along his chest, sighing.

His battered fingers stroked along her bare arm. "Would you nurse me back to health?"

Jill's expression deadpanned. "I don't think I'd make a good nurse. I killed a bean plant in the second grade."

A thoughtful look entered his features. "Oh, well… I'm sure I could guide you through caring for a human being. First, you have to remember water…" He laughed and winced as she poked his rib. "Careful, I'm about as solid as a house of cards right now."

She smiled meekly amid her red cheeks. "You're so funny."

"I am. It's a rare gift." His stare lifted to the television droning on in the corner. The blonde's tone suddenly shifted to serious. "What have you heard in the RPD about all of this?"

Valentine stretched her legs the length of the bed, sighing. "Chris is kicking himself in the ass over the last explosive. Irons is hiding in his office. The mayor has dubbed you a hero for saving Doctor Hamilton, the nursery and acting when necessary. Captain Marini sank our chances of heading into the mountains to capture all of those creeps who are responsible." She sounded irritated when she spoke of Marini.

"Look at you, already ahead of the town rumor mill." He commented, fishing up the remote from the blanket. "There is no point in going after the Dawn right now. They'll be running to their hidey-holes for the winter. Irons was right in that sense."

Jill's stare fixed on the woman reporting the latest in news. Her brows rose briefly as Albert's expressionless face wiped onto the screen during the report. "You made the news." She commented absently.

"I was hoping to make Jerry Springer long before Raccoon City News." He feigned disappointment, turning off the television. "There's nothing I need to hear out of that. It's a circle jerk that I'm absent for. Speaking of absences…" He could feel her body betray her as it shrank.

"I'm sorry." She muttered softly.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Albert asked, eyes sliding shut to rest.

Jill thought about it for a moment, almost convinced she shouldn't speak on the matter. "I found a jar…with a pair of hands in it."

Albert's eyes lifted open once more. That poker face he kept on so well was diminishing as anger overtook.

Silence engulfed the room after she spoke, the tick of the clock on the wall the only thing to break it.

"It was Dad, wasn't it?" She hardly sounded alarmed. Safe and secure in his wingspan, she had nothing to fear.

"I have no doubt." He replied, arm about her tightening. A hardened expression filled his bruised features. "Your father knew…what he was getting himself into when all of this began. Everything up to this point has been at great risk. I never thought Brian Irons was anything more than a mouth and a stomach, to be honest." What little comfort he could offer, he gave. Lips resting along the pulse of her wrist, he sighed. "That fat fucking idiot." Wesker's hiss rattled in chilling tones.

Confusion erupted all over her face.

He remembered where he was, composing himself. "After I am released from here, we can talk. I will tell you…everything." He uttered softly, digits running along her cheekbone. "I promise. I will tell you everything you need to know."

She nodded silently.

His mouth found hers. As gentle as a brushstroke on canvas, the blonde bestowed small affections over her red lips. "I missed you."

Her breath hitched, the memory of his mouth burning on her lips still. "I love you." The words had hijacked her mouth.  _'Ah dammit… it was going so well.'_

Albert was motionless aside from hovered lids lifting. When she tried to bow her head, his impossibly long fingers guided her back to him.

All she could see was the gray of his eyes.

The pad of his thumb brushed against the crease of her lips. "You don't need to feel guilty for saying nice things to me. Ever."

Folded back into the warm and safety of his arms, Jill hid her face along the slope of his shoulder.

His gray hues stared forward. An ace slid under his sleeve was gently patted. _  
_

* * *

The lab was mostly quiet aside from the television droning through the film, _Forrest Gump_ , on its roll away cart.

On an examination table in the center of the room, William Birkin was almost literally elbow deep in a dissection of a carcass. Under all of his protective gear, a thin line of sweat was beading over his body. He truthfully hated having to wear so much equipment to work, but it kept him safe.

The creature almost looked human, aside from severe deformities to its appendages, a complete lack of skin, and a brain exposed with no skull for protection. Two rows of jagged teeth hung open from its skinless maw.

Annette returned from the break room with a cup of coffee in hand. Her lips twitched into a smirk as her husband winked at her from over the carcass of their latest work. "What was the model number on these boys?"

"I don't know. John has all of that locked up in his office. I just call them 'Lickers' in all of my notes." Scalpel in hand, William pointed the blade towards the several foot long tongue hanging from the mouth of the dead creature. "I named this one Gene Simmons. He measured out at six feet."

Annette's cruel grin erupted. "That is terrible, William."

The shaggy scientist laughed. "No, what would be terrible is trying to market these to women as pets. The divorce rate would shoot through the roof."

"That is too far, William." The blonde woman uttered. "So… this was that Crimson Head we've been monitoring?"

William nodded. "Yeah, it just threw out everything we know about how V-ACT works. You know how normally it's a split between the crimsons and the lickers? This boy shed his skin last night…"

"So, lickers could possibly turn into crimson heads?" Heat bit her lips as Annette took a swig of her coffee.

The male scientist shook his head, putting down the scalpel in favor of a saw. "I don't think so. I think it's that crimsons can evolve into Lickers like this baby here. Suit up; there is something I want to show you."

Annette returned in full suit, approaching the examination table. Her stare followed her husband's to the television.

With a grin, William did his best to mimic the voice from the movie. "My mamma always said when you close your eyes, you can't see."

Annette sighed, rolling her eyes. "Very funny, dearest, you're a true comedic legend. Show me what you found."

Spreading the flesh of the abdominal region away at a cut previously made, William gestured toward the tray of instruments on the other side of the animal. "Hand me the scalpel. Thank you, pretty lady." After a few moments of peeling away at something unseen within, he set the knife aside and used both hands to pull out a mass of tissue. "Tray?" He dumped it in, after. "Now, tell me what you see."

Annette turned the mass over a few times, brows raised. "Ovaries?"

"We may be able to breed these animals instead of relying heavily on V-ACT to create them. No more gambles, no more…wasted time and money." Will's pale stare returned to the animal. "It could be our ticket out of needing hosts." His head jerked to the sound of the phone. "Can you get that for me?"

Stripping out of the suit and going through the decontamination chamber, Annette made her way to the phone. Whoever it was, they'd called four times. "Lab three, Annette Birkin, speaking. Please verify identity."

"Yes, this is Buck Nekkid. I seem to have misplaced my pants."

A long sigh escaping her, the blonde woman turned to look towards William. "Your other wife is on the phone. He can't find his pants."

William held up a severed forward Licker appendage in each hand. "Tell him I have my hands full."

"You're both children." She rolled her eyes, free hand coiled in the phone cord. "How are you feeling?"

"Completely wiped out and very sore still, but thanks for asking. Sherry's Christmas gifts are at home, I'll have to stop by whenever they release me."

"Albert, it's only been two weeks." Annette jumped briefly at the sound of something metal being knocked over. She didn't bother looking.

"Oops, butter fingers! Where did I leave those biohazard bags?"

"Just take all the time you need, we'll make plans after you are released with a clean bill of health." Her blue eyes watched her husband bag the two appendages.

"There's the issue of Dick Valentine." His voice was looming dark.

"Will told me, we'll handle it all later. Okay?"

William finally came strolling up with the bagged appendages in tow. "Jenny? Why won't you marry me, Jenny? Is it my hands Jenny?" He held up the bagged appendages for Annette to see.

Annette just rolled her eyes.

"I'm not a smart man Jenny, but I know what love is, Jenny."

"Who's Jenny?" The voice on the other end suddenly asked.

Annette's chilly mood was broken immediately, chuckling softly. "He asked who Jenny was."

"What a dummy!" William took the phone and slammed it on the receiver.

Albert blinked in his hospital bed, utterly confused. His arm looped around Jill Valentine's sleeping form after setting the phone back on its cradle.

* * *

_"One thing you can't hide-is when you're crippled inside." -John Lennon_


	29. Chapter 29

 

_Theme: Battle-Axe—Deftones_

* * *

A nurse passed by the open doorway. The sound of a chart clacking against the linoleum was followed by her quiet cursing as she scraped it up. The usual noises of a busy hospital had resumed over the past week. The phone was practically ringing off the hook daily on the third floor where Albert was still recovering. The second floor was completely shut down during renovations. Umbrella was quick to clean up the hospital. After all, they owned it.

The light's rays cast right into a pool of steel blue, causing the iris to dial and the patient to wince away. "That still hurts?" Doctor Long asked, scratching a note of it on his clipboard of patient notes. "Well your pupils are both dialing normally, retaining the same size. That's a very good sign." A few more notes were scratched with his fountain pen and the brunette man met his patient's stare. "I think you're going to make a full recovery as long as you follow through with physical therapy."

Albert couldn't even begin to express the relief he felt. He looked better than two weeks before. His skin was holding color again. The bandaging previously wrapped around his crown was gone, leaving a shaven skull with an array of stitches serpentine toward the back of his head on the right side. He'd nearly broken the mirror when he first saw it. "You mentioned something about the frontal lobe before."

The neurologist nodded and replied while scratching a few more notes. "Yes, there was some swelling that thankfully went down on its own after we began to cool you off the first night. We didn't see any damage on any of the scans. The vast majority of where you hit was all along your right side when you were thrown. The fracture in your skull was linear thankfully, but there was some damage that needed cleaned up and stitched. The rest of your body is healing better than I expected when I first saw you in the ER." He looked thoughtfully at the blonde. "Are there any concerns, Mister Wesker?"

The blonde shook his head. "No, I was just clearing the air. I was surprised to see 'traumatic brain injury' on my chart when I took a look at it."

The doctor took a seat in the chair next to the bed. "Mister Wesker, you have been displaying every symptom common to a TBI. The coma, the dizziness, the headaches, the ringing you heard, and your sleep patterns changing. Also there was the blurry vision right after the injury was sustained and it lasted for the first few days…" He counted out each on his fingers. "Right now I'm ruling it as a moderate traumatic brain injury. You haven't been vomiting. You haven't had slurred speech or trouble with thinking. However, you were unconscious for a significant amount of time before waking. There may be things that we have to address later on down the road."

"Elaborate." Wesker cleared his throat, tired fingers reaching for the cup of water next to his bed.

Howard let out a sigh, hands turning their palms skyward as he spoke. "Despite my optimistic outlook, we have to accept the fact that later on down the road you may have complications. We just don't know enough about the human brain to understand all of the consequences of traumatic injuries to it. Even though it's 1997, medicine hasn't made huge strides towards treating injuries to the brain. Twenty years ago, we hardly had any plausible methods outside of relieving pressure on the organ via removing a piece of the skull. All we know how to do currently is address the symptoms and help patients manage them. We try to help the patient maintain their life, as they currently live it, as best we can with treatment. We just don't have a cure all yet. I don't think you'll have anything so life altering that you're stuck in a wheel chair or need living assistance…" He paused as their looks met. "There might be other issues. The headaches might begin to get worse or never stop. There might be behavioral and mood changes later on. Nightmares are another one that people in your situation have to deal with at times."

"There's something else that you're concerned about." Albert stated, eyes narrowing at the doctor.

The brunette ran both hands through his slightly shaggy hair. "A few years ago, I had a patient who suffered a TBI who had similar symptoms. When he came out of the coma, he was fine for a few months. A year later, he left his wife and children to pursue a woman he met off the streets. He was a banker. He quit his job, abandoned his lifestyle, and left the state. Injuries like this can change you as a person. Who you are right now…could be gone a year from now. Snuffed out forever and replaced by someone you wouldn't even recognize."

Wesker's lips cracked into a smirk. "Personalities gradually change over time. I do understand what you are saying though."

Capping his pen, the doctor swiped up his clipboard. "We'll just have to ensure that you have a support network. If you suddenly feel the need to make life altering decisions out of nowhere, we'll have to revisit treatment with medication and psychological counseling. However, I am optimistic about your recovery. The surgeries went well and you're eating. I believe you're going to make a full recovery."

Albert's lips tugged into a smirk. "Don't you just love having to tell your patients every possible scenario to avoid being sued?"

The worry charged in the air dissipated with that question. A laugh escaped the neurosurgeon, brows raised and a smile on his face. He nodded several times. "I've gotten very good at it over the years. Ten years ago, I'd have had a deer in the headlights look if you asked me more than four questions." Signing something off, he tapped the foot of the bed with his chart. "I shall see you next week for your appointment. Elena will bring you the paperwork for your discharge. She'll also have your schedule for physical therapy."

* * *

William broke the silence in the cabin of his car three hours later. He raised a brow at the blonde in the passenger seat rolling down the window to smoke. "We were thinking about having a very late Christmas dinner if you were up for it."

Albert nodded absently, eyes watching the world sweep past them. A storm had left piles of snow everywhere in the mid-January evening. "It will be nice to see Sherry."

"Yeah, she's missed you. I'm not sure how she's going to react to what Long did to your scalp." Birkin made a face briefly at the memory of first seeing the work done to his longtime friend. "It looks like he was drunk behind the wheel on that one."

Wesker winced, a heavy sigh given. Sunglasses slipped on, he sat back in the seat. "I thought I was going to vomit when I saw his work." Anger lathered his voice. "I think I've been less sloppy when stitching my slacks."

"You can always call in a favor to Denver if it leaves a visible scar after your hair grows back." The shorter man replied, clicking his turn signal to head left. The car came rolling to a stop at the red light. "Annette has a friend working in California as well that handles cosmetic surgeries. I'm sure he'd give a hefty discount to a cop injured in the line of duty."

Stare fixed to the road, the man sitting the passenger seat just shook his head slowly. "It's not about money, William." His eyes closed briefly behind the darkened lenses. "I need to make sure my contacts haven't dropped dead. Losing almost a month to recover has been a detriment to the norm of balancing work and play."

William's light brows lifted. "You have been out of the loop. You remember that reporter who went missing in the forest back in March? I think his name was Kurt and he was checking out the old hospital in the mountains."

Wesker's stare narrowed. "The old dummy hospital that was owned by the shell company Umbrella cooked up? Shit, he's dead." A small chuckle escaped the blonde's lips.

Birkin nodded in agreement. "They fished his body up this past October out of the Aimes River. The autopsy report was released last week, despite all attempts to keep it silent. Alyssa Ashcroft was all over that like she always seems to be."

Albert's eyes briefly watched a couple stroll on the walkway next to the road. They soon whisked by his view. "Oh, she's a gem. Fired from every newspaper yet somehow still finds enough freelance work to eat. What about the corpse they drug out?"

The slim scientist gripped the steering wheel tighter. "They found large quantities of steroids in his skin tissue. Alan Erdot is supposed to be leading a team to investigate what has happened. Nobody has heard a word from Director Lester since his wife died in that hospital. After Anderson's confession to you on security footage, Spencer thinks that the Dawn has gotten their hands on the T-Virus and has been letting it loose in the woods. He's becoming paranoid of everyone…" Pale and tired eyes pitched their view to the left again as he turned the car. "You missed the spectacle that was the last meeting. He shot three scientists in front of the board members."

' _Is he honestly surprised? The old man was always a few bricks short of a full load.'_

"I'm sure it was one for the books, Will." Albert's bored tone dismissed more chatter of Umbrella. As they pulled into the driveway of the Birkin residence, Albert lifted a single lightly colored brow. "My car is here."

"Yeah…she's been driving it." William cringed lightly. "Alternator went out on the bug."

With a roll of his eyes, Wesker climbed out without another word.

* * *

Sherry's big blue eyes welled in tears when she saw him first walk in behind her father. The kittens normally crowded around her little feet scattered in all directions, puffed balls of untrusting hisses and spats. Luminous yellow eyes peeked out from under the couches and chairs as the intruder to the home scooped up their Sherry and hugged her tight.

Albert did his best to calm her, speaking softly as she sobbed. "I'm fine. You don't need to cry, Sherry."

"You look like Frankenstein." She lifted her head from his shoulder, mopping away a few tears. Her little fingers gently ran over the side of his head, nose scrunching. "What happened to your hair?"

"Someone stole it. Can you believe that?" He grinned as she gave him a look reminiscent to her mother's own appearance when skeptical. A strong hand brushed over her blond hair. "I missed you, Sherry."

"I missed you too, Uncle Albert." Arms flung around him, Sherry buried her face against the collar of his button down shirt. "Why did you go away?"

William let out a sigh, patting the girl's back. "He was in the hospital. We told you this, Sherry." His voice was soft, almost tired as he wandered towards the kitchen.

Sherry looked over her shoulder, then back to Albert. Her usually quiet features scrunched to an annoyed expression. "No they didn't."

"I believe you." The tall Arian replied with a wink. "I was in the hospital. They had to patch me back up."

"Did you get in a fight?" Her cornflower hues followed her fingers as they toyed with the top button of his shirt.

Albert nodded slowly. "Yes, it was a big fight. Lots of people are safe now, though."

"I like that you help people, Uncle Albert." Sherry's quiet voice was probably the most wonderful thing he had heard in a month.

"Me too." His hand went for a chain that draped from her neck, tugging a locket out for view. Large and round, it seemed so oddly sized hanging from the girl's slender neck. "That is a nice necklace. Why are you hiding it?"

Sherry darted a glance toward the kitchen before looking back to Wesker. "It's Mommy's." She whispered, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. Once he let her drop back on her feet, she pressed a finger to her lips.

He reciprocated the motion, ruffling her platinum blonde strands before following William's path to the kitchen.

The kittens began to come out of hiding as Sherry sat on the floor, gazing at the portrait hidden within the lid of the locket.

* * *

Jill's nails tapping against the table nearly drove everyone present mad. She couldn't take her eyes off the clock in the corner; its ticking was almost driving  _her_  mad. The feeling of a warm palm over her hand finally quelled the sound. Her blue stare pitched to Albert. She still was getting used to his appearance without hair.  _'He looks like he went through chemo. God, I should have been there with him.'_

William broke the silence. "We owe you an explanation," he started, favoring the cup in his hands. "What you think you know, you know nothing about. Everyone present and everyone who has claimed to be your friend…has lied to you in some way or another. I just want you to know first and foremost that we are sorry we had to lie."

Annette said nothing.

Albert said nothing. His thumb continued brushing over the brunette woman's knuckles.

"We didn't want to," William's pale stare lifted to meet Jill's. "We thought there was no other way at the time to respect your father's wishes and go about our business." Realizing he was talking around the subject, he finally got to the point. "Spencer…had your father taken care of by Irons, who is in his back pocket along with half of the town. You know the kind of work your father has been in. He was doing the same things for Spencer, only on a much grander scale. Your father wanted out. He couldn't get out, as you've seen. Neither can we, at the moment."

Wesker's stare shifted to Jill as her fingers coiled around his tightly.

"Your father was a hero. I know I said otherwise previously, but he was trying so hard to make things right. I couldn't tell you otherwise..." Will's stare shifted to Annette, lost for words with fingers pressing against his temple.

From under a plume of cigarette smoke, Annette continued. "Your father found out about Umbrella's more illegal activities. They've been trading illegal arms with countries that are not the friendliest on the planet. They torture their own people and turn the weapons sold to them on those same people. In short, Umbrella is building an arms race that could devastate mankind, more so than a nuclear holocaust. He died trying to help us stop this."

Valentine could feel her eyes burning red. The tears that welled began to stream down her face.

"Umbrella is a massive company. They provide several million jobs around the world. Most of those jobs are legitimate, which proves to be a problem. They're a company that is too big to fall with deep pockets and a vendetta to come out on top." William uttered softly. "Raccoon City is just…a tiny fragment of what they are. We make the chemicals here that are sold to those countries. For years, we were told they were part of a Pentagon project for lowering casualties during wars. We were lied to, just like everyone else."

"I'm in." Jill uttered softly, her free hand wiping away at her tears.

The three exchanged a look, stunned by her sudden adherence.

Annette hesitated before continuing. "With it being such a massive company…the best move would be for a hostile take-over. The company has gone public, so the most logical way to stop all of this is to put William as chairman through stocks and his contributions to the company through bidding projects to the Pentagon and other organizations. Make everyone else look completely incompetent…"

Valentine nodded several times. "I know how that works. I'm not stupid. Take over and shut down the garbage. I'm in." She slid out of her seat, heading for the back door before she paused. "William?"

Birkin turned his head.

Her Alice blue hues peered over her shoulder to him. "When you're chairman, Irons is mine. Consider it my payment for helping all of you."

William nodded slowly under his shaggy blonde hair. "O-Of course…"

The door's slam even made Albert twitch.

* * *

" _I trust everyone. I just don't trust the devil inside them." –Troy Kennedy Martin_


	30. Chapter 30

 

_Theme: Blue on Black—Kenny Wayne Shepherd_

* * *

The moon broke through her hair as Jill sat on the side stoop of the house, smoking… of all things. She had been trying to quit. The entire situation was taking a great toll on her.  _'My life has been flipped more than a flapjack in the past year.'_ Dick was truly gone. Confirmation of her discoveries, and a slim chance that it'd all been coincidence…destroyed. Somewhere in her heart, a sad spirit still wept for him. Now, she knew everything. She knew everything and felt like she still knew nothing at all.

' _Revenge is only a matter of time.'_  Something in her soul didn't want revenge. It wasn't equal to the cost by a long shot. No amount of money or measure of torture would do. She couldn't walk backwards three times in a circle of salt and candles to undo what had been done. Some things really were set in stone. Her heart ached; its wanton desires were still spoken in a dead language that she was on the very fringe of understanding. In an illuminating bit of tobacco rolled in paper, she found comfort to the thoughts that plagued her mind. The brunette didn't bother to look up as the door opened and shut, nor did she bother to do the same when a familiar shape sat down next to her. Her haunting blue eyes kept their stare on the silhouetted veins of tree branches against a glittering sky. "I needed some air."

Wesker unfurled his jacket, resting the black leather over her slim frame. The gentleman in him still knew how to make an appearance. He let the crisp night wind sing through the trees for a while before interrupting its song. "I would have needed a stiff drink and a revolver if I had received that news." There was no deception in his voice. A hand ghosted along the stitching overlaying his scalp.  _'Well, all of this was shot to shit real quick.'_

"Both sound nice right now." The brunette muttered in the fog of her breath, flicking ash on the snow littering the ground nearby. The silence and cold of the night between them made itself known. "You remember when I told you that I would have arrested Dad if he was responsible for all of those people dying?"

"I do recall." His eyes met hers at a side glance.

"I lied." She admitted with a downcast stare. Ice crunched under her boots as she shifted her feet.

"I know."

Rummaging through her brunette hair, Jill pitched her stare into the dark. "Does that make me an evil person? If he'd been responsible and I would have let him run because he's my father?" She was such a poor little thing.

' _Clay to mold.'_

The pads of Wesker's fingers absently brushed against his lips. It was the first time in a long time she had asked him for an opinion that was below skin deep. He liked when she did ask those things. Not that he'd ever tell her that. "No, there are only two kinds of evil people in the world. The first are those who willingly do evil for their own selfish and self-centered reasons," A digit extended out in gesture as he spoke. "The second are the people, who are so blindly ignorant and can absolve themselves of guilt and responsibility through ritual or assumption that some greater power has forgiven them without consequence. They live in a fantasy where evil is done only by a mythical being who wields a pitchfork. If someone needs the threat of an invisible being in order to live in a righteous manner, I hate to break it to them: they're not a good person." His silvery stare finally lined up with her ice pale own. "You, however, see the world for what it is. You see that wicked people can do virtuous things and upright people can do the work of tyrants. It may not be the oil paintings of the  _Louvre_ , but it is still as real as the pulse under your skin. You live in the real world, Jill. That counts for more than every gold coin that there ever was."

"And where do you live, Albert?" She sounded intrigued.

He looked into the dark thoughtfully for a moment. "I have a nice condo in Hell."

Jill's dark brows lifted at that, a faint smile cracking at the seams of her mouth. "What have you lied to me about? William said everyone present had lied to me. Only he and Annette spoke." Her cornflower eyes set on his face, watching his appearance smooth to a calm pool.

' _Unlike William, I'm not folding my hand to her mercy. I've bent to enough Valentines for one lifetime.'_

A hand ran over the short hairs beginning to grow on the left side of his head. A few snowflakes tumbling from the heavens caught the attention of his steel gray stare. "Well…I suppose any loyalty to Spencer was a complete farce." He sounded almost casual. "That ran out the day I was 'let go' and sealed the moment I learned that genocide was on Umbrella's menu." In truth, he didn't really give a shit anymore about what Umbrella wanted to do with its creations. He had put all of that behind him after he and William had Marcus killed. S.T.A.R.S. had been his door prize for the blood on his hands. Why crush the girl with the knowledge that everything she knew about him had been a complete lie?

"So you just followed William and worked with Dad?"

' _That works. I don't even have to write my own lies. Perfect.'_

"If you want to shorten it down to a single question: yes." He stole the cigarette from her, taking a long drag.

"Why?" Her question was met with a sigh. "I know you despise having to answer every question for everything that you do, but if you want me to trust you…things need to be different now. I need to know the truth. Otherwise I won't trust you and I don't work with people that I don't trust."

' _You already trust me, dear heart. Good show, though.'_

Chilled fingers flicked the spent cigarette into the snow of the yard. "William is my friend. I don't have many of those in the world. Sherry is the closest thing I will ever have to a child. Annette is the closest I will ever have to a sibling." The star littered sky above drew his attention to it. His head turned as she finally curled around his arm. "Oh, all I have to do is show that I'm a bleeding heart under all of this frost and you stop giving me the cold shoulder." He smirked as she pressed a kiss against his cheek. "Look at that, I even received a kiss. Do I have to quote Shakespeare to get that shirt to come off?" His laughter couldn't be contained as she shot him a sour look.

Jill's nose buried against his shoulder. "I like when you talk about your feelings."

His face screwed up at that, a devilish silver eye glinting its stare at her. "How dare you accuse me of having those things?"

Valentine just shook her head. "You have them. I've seen them. All of them."

' _Oh you have?'_

He brushed off what she was implying. Lips pursing, Wesker switched his stare back to the dark. "Lies. Lies and slander. I'm suing you."

* * *

"It must be really cold out there. You two were adorable huddled up and making kissy faces." Annette teased from her perch on the sofa. A few scattered giggles erupted from her as she heard William making smooching sounds from behind his book. The blonde lady patted the sofa for the other woman to join her.

"You're  _hilarious_ , Annette." Sarcasm rolled off Albert's tongue as he took a seat next to William. He could already feel another headache trying to settle in. A brow piqued with interest to the man next to him. "First time I've ever witnessed this man with his nose in something that wasn't a text book."

Biting at his nail, it took a flick to his ear to bring William back to Earth. "Huh? Oh. Jill gave it to me for Christmas." He flashed the cover briefly.

"Pet Sematary? Here I thought I had witnessed everything in the world. Now I see a brilliant mind reading gutter trash." Albert shifted his stare to the TV.

"Gee, thanks." Jill shot back from the other sofa. "I thought he'd like it because he's a doctor."

"What does that have to do with a story about dead animals reanimating?"

"Be nice, children." Damage control in full swing, Annette set her mug of tea aside.

"It's a good book!" The headshake William received caused the scientist to sigh heavily. "It's a very good book."

"Oh shut it, William." Irritation was building.

"What? Oh come on, you can't be serious."

Darkness frothed from his throat. "I said  _ **shut it**_."

Will's stare hardened after a moment, then softened with worry. "You okay?"

Wesker's stare shifted to the man, gauging his expression. His watch shifted to the two women on the other couch, their expressions mirroring much the same. Concern. Confusion.

' _Are you feeling alright?'_

The blonde brushed it off with a sigh. "Headache," It was all he could do to quell their concern. Digits digging along his brow, he shifted forward.

Annette slid to her feet, quietly treading toward the division of the room from the dining area. "I think we have some Advil in the kitchen."

* * *

Jill choked down a few emotions trying to spew to the surface, steering wheel firm in her grasp. "You know, I can let most of your comments roll off my back… William liked the book and I don't have a great deal of money to blow on a Christmas gift."

A sigh greeted her from the other side of the cabin. He was over his little outburst, why wasn't she?

' _Christ, it isn't as though I had an out of body. Just stress.'_

Her pale eyes dared a glance to him. "Well, are you going to say something? Apologize, maybe? Christ, I've agreed to help you three do what killed Dad. I think I can get away with one cheap Christmas gift."

"Keep your eyes on the road, please." He winced as the vehicle gave a jerk from overcompensation by the driver to stay in the lane. "Last thing I need tonight is for my car to be totaled."

"Totaled? You're worried about the car right now?" Jill couldn't believe it, head shaking as she clicked the blinker for a left turn. "Honestly…"

"Honestly what? It's my car." Clicking on the radio, Casper Devere's voice rolled through the speakers from Radio Raccoon, 112.5 FM.

The matter was dismissed, despite her annoyance and his complete indifference to the argument.

The couch felt empty, despite that they both were on it. Separate ways, they laid in silence. The news wasn't offering either a slice for conversation. There was something in the air.

Jill didn't like it.

He was a tomb, silent and watching the television through tired eyes.

Show finished, the television blipped black and was silent.

' _Am I being petty?'_  She certainly didn't feel as though her anger was petty. There was quite a bit of thought put into that gift. Genuine hurt ruptured her chest, leaving it and her face burning.

' _It might have been too much for him to be awake so long. William warned me that he might not be himself for a while. Left field mood swings and sudden irritation.'_

Pale blue eyes shifted their stare toward Albert rising off the couch. She took the hand he offered, pulled to her feet. In his arms, she couldn't find her words.

' _This is my fault. This is all my fault… If I had been there…'_

Burying her face against his chest, she sighed worryingly.

* * *

In bed, he was at one end and she at the other. Distance was bothering her. Everything was bothering her. She wept herself to sleep and put it away for another day where she could take it out and examine it with some impartiality. In the end, what she didn't know would indeed hurt her.

* * *

" _It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways." -Buddha_


	31. Chapter 31

 

_Theme: Ethereal- Amethystium_

* * *

Chris' boyish grin could not be sank, even behind a donut locked in his jaws, as he saw both Jill and Wesker wandering through the front doors. Waving, he nearly lost his grasp on the stack of folders that were in his arms.

Jill, dressed for duty, was almost fifteen minutes late for work. She applied chapstick to her drying lips, uttering something hardly audible to the man on her left. Her stride slid in sync with his. A habit from the academy she had yet to kick.

Wesker, a black smear in a lobby of gray stone and blue uniforms coming and going, was still supposed to be on paid leave to recover from his injuries.

' _Duty calls, however. Irons just can't leave me be.'_

He maintained his silent façade as he ascended the stairs, black gloved fingers sliding up the railing.

"Hrn randur, curpin."

Wesker turned his head three feet from Chris, black Italian leather shoes scuffing to a halt. "What?" Blank in tone, the blonde was far from amused by Christopher on a regular basis as it was. Let alone when he was trying to talk with a mouth stuffed with a pastry.

' _Such a child.'_

Chris grinned ear to ear as his partner stole the donut from him, some sugary sweet brushed off his lips with his free hand. "I said 'Hi there, Captain'." Lead hit his guts as he surveyed the very wicked looking line amid short blonde hairs along Wesker's scalp. Guilt sank the boat that was his smile. "How are you feeling?"

From behind his shades, Albert glared for the longest time. With Jill near, he had no desire to start cursing Christopher out. Not because she had some hold over him… No, there were several people coming and going. He was just… "Tired," There was nothing more than that to be said it seemed. Wesker was already leaving the pair behind.

Jill loitered with a sigh, glazed doughnut leaving her fingers sticky. She offered it back to Chris.

"What's wrong with him?" The brunette man's stare cast to the woman briefly before biting into the sweet.

She gave a shrug, watching uniforms come and go. "Other than still recovering from a near death experience…I don't know."

Chris couldn't ignore the distress hitching in her voice or the solemn look on her face. The brunette began to descend the stairs, pausing only to call back to her. "We'll… talk later, okay? I need to get these to the K-9 unit before they roll out."

* * *

"This office is a mess…" Albert commented absently, head tilting briefly to ensure the door behind him shut. Coat draped on the back of the chair, he took a seat. Stacks and stacks of files and boxes were left everywhere. He couldn't even see the monitor to his computer from where he sat in a sea of paperwork. The swiveling chair creaked as the blonde stretched.

"Everyone is spread thin… None of us have had time to even start digesting all of that paperwork." Jill grumbled from under her lucky hat, laid out on the squatting leather couch crammed along the wall next to the door. She peeked out as she heard his heavy sigh. "It'll be alright, I'll have all of this gone by the time you're off leave."

"I know." The blonde replied, dumping his sunglasses on a smaller stack of manila folders. His gaze trailed through the blinds to the empty office outside, frosty exterior loosening as the subject changed. "I'm moving into Uptown next week, so both Enrico and you will have plenty of time to play catch up." Albert didn't even need to meet her gaze to know the look she was giving him: concerned and skeptical. She had worn it for weeks. It almost was irritating. "No, I am not going insane. No, I will not miss having to mow two very large yards or trim hedges that never seem to end… or having a pool that has gone untouched since you put me on a short leash."

The beret swished lazily as her finger made a looping motion. "Miss having orgies in your pool that much?"

Albert's blond brows rose at that. "Never had one of those," He smirked a little. "I still have the house for another month, though."

The beret flicked against her knee as she stopped toying with it. "It's February. Good luck finding women willing to jump in your freezing cold pool."

Wesker's lips parted as a grin encircled his expression. He found himself doing it more now that the headaches were leaving him alone and she was never too far away. Something…in her staying at his side, putting him first, it had reached into him like a fishing hook. Even still, he kept that line taunt. "Now, now… I couldn't do that even if I had the desire to. You'd leave, and after I got bored with them, I'd be all alone." Silvery blue eyes watched the way her chest rose and fell. He thought of touching what lay underneath. "It would be tragic."

Jill finally rolled off of the couch. She lifted a stack of folders off the desk, setting them down on the couch. "I'd hardly leave a dent in your granite ego." How she had hardened.

It didn't evade his senses in the least in the past month. The law of the thief finally branded itself on her heart, it seemed. Her hardened heart made her less susceptible to the frustrations that came with the job…and him. It wept no more blood for a man that wrote his own death warrant. It kept its distance at times where she would have previously pushed every single one of his buttons. It kept its distance when his fingers trailed up the curve of her spine as well. She was there…but not there. Sometimes he missed her filthy heart's old habits, though nothing lasts forever. Albert dismissed the thought upon his reply. "On the contrary, I'd probably be a pitiful mess." He watched her continue to clear his desk. "My world would crumble."

"I doubt it," the comment was followed by her taking a seat on the edge of his desk. "You're a tough cookie."

"Hardly, dear heart." Albert's steel gaze met hers. She didn't appear convinced to his eyes. "The house would fall into disarray. I'm certain someone would find me under a mountain of used tissues, crying and eating Coco Puffs in my underwear."

Jill snorted, unable to chill her shoulder to him.

The absurdity of his comment even made him chuckle softly.

She dropped her beret on his head. "In your underwear…" She echoed the last part of his phrase as she watched him adjust the headgear to fit properly. "Wow, you wear it better than I do." Her feet dangled as she sat further back on the desk.

"Because I know how to wear a beret," The flash crested in plated gold gleamed in the light of the desk lamp, the rest draped perfectly. It suited him well. More so than the shades he constantly wore. "I didn't realize you needed taught how to shape one so you didn't look like Che Guevara." A snicker escaped him as she stole it back. "I was just growing fond of it. Why did you take it away?"

Jill could have sworn her face was growing redder the more she tried to recreate what he had done with her hat. "Stop snickering at me." She hissed, tugging at the fabric. After a few attempts and a few headshakes from her counterpart, she gave up with a sigh. "Fine, teach me."

He rolled his chair closer, gesturing for her to lean down. "This is so much easier to do if you shape it while it's wet. Fold the fabric at the corner of the crest. Push down behind it to give it the appearance of standing alone... Then tug this part toward your ear." A final inspection of his work and the blonde met her gaze. "Easy as that…"

She examined herself in the mirror of the window along the far wall next to his desk. Doe blue wells softened as they gazed back at him.

Something about it made him nearly uncomfortable. "What?"

Jill tilted her head, and then shook it. "Nothing." She could see the protest on his face for being left in the dark. "It's nothing." A thought against keeping it to herself won out. "Sometimes you're very sweet. That's all I was thinking."

"Lies," The Cheshire's grin found him as her arms looped around his neck. "You try so hard to convince me that I'm a nice person. I'm not entirely sure why, either."

She leaned in. "You are…when you want to be." Lips meeting his, the soft caress felt like the first time. Such was the way of things between them. As his mouth parted to allow her further delving, she suddenly drew back. "I should get to work."

Silvery hues viewed her from under heavy lids, fingers unwilling to let her leave. "Not yet. I still have twenty minutes before I need to be upstairs." His mouth found a tender spot along her jaw. Her perfume filled his nostrils.

Her nails clenched against his shoulder, eyes relaxing shut. The woman's desire threatened to be an open wound right there. "We really shouldn't be doing this…" It wasn't a lack of want that stayed her hand. As he drew back suddenly, her eyes flew open in confusion.

His sharp features were blank and somehow hard-edged. He was looking at something.

' _Or someone.'_

She followed his stare, and then sat straight up.

' _Oh God…'_

There were few things in the world that ever shocked Christopher Redfield. Honestly; he'd lost his parents at an early age, raised his sister to the best of his ability, and had traveled the world while in the Air Force. Fraternization was something he was caught doing once or twice. It wasn't normally something that invoked a desire in him to do more than shrug. Catching his captain and his partner being less than formal… was one he was unlikely to forget.

_Ever._

Chris stood in the doorway, stunned. A box of donuts rested under his arm. A peace offering that was forgotten in that moment.

All three were frozen, caught in their own ways.

The clock ticked on the wall. It was three 'o clock.

After the shock left the air, Wesker reached out to collect his sunglasses. Jacket gathered from his chair, he slid it on.

' _Best not keep Brian waiting, before this entire situation blows out of control.'_

Jill, still deafeningly silent, could hear her own pulse in her ears.

Chris still hadn't picked up his jaw.

' _She'll figure it out.'_

Albert, doing what he did best, made his way out the door and past one very speechless Christopher. He acted like nothing had happened as far as the other two were concerned. Completely removed from the situation, he checked the Swiss watch on his wrist. "I'll be in Irons' office, hearing the latest in crack pot theories about the Dawn of Heaven if either of you need me. Please leave any reports you need signed on Brad's desk. I will grab them before I leave and finish them at home." Calm and fluid, he was gone with the door's slam.

And that was how Jill was left holding the bag.

' _Well… Shit.'_

Both remained silent for the longest time, caught in the web of shock and awe.

Redfield finally moved. He dropped the box of donuts in her lap.

Her guts flipped as Jill watched Chris trek across the small room and seat himself in Wesker's chair.

He leaned back, putting his feet up on a stack of files. The brunette folded his arms behind his head. The look on his face was torn between disappointment and utter amusement. "Sooo…"

Valentine pursed her lips, heels clapping as her feet collided briefly between swings. She was certain her face was burned red. "Sooo…yeah." Something interesting was to be found on the couch. It had to be. She was looking away at it for the longest time.

Dark eyes set on his partner; Chris let out a sigh and shook his head. "What the fuck?" His laughter followed in suit, both palms sliding through his hair to rest against his face. "Jesus, Jill. First I catch Claire with her pants down on New Year's Eve, now this…"

Just like that, the tension snapped from the air. Head dropping between her shoulders, Jill could only laugh as well and shake her head. "Yeah…"

Sniffing sharply, Chris darted his eyes at the plaques lining the walls. It was such an 'I love me' room the captain kept. It was another entity that embodied only something or someone named Albert Wesker. Everything on the walls was exact in placement. Everything was an achievement, an award, given graciously to a man that everyone thought walked on fucking water. Prestigious and flawless in every way, even his walls said so. A centered jewel in the crown of Raccoon City's law enforcement.

Wesker could do no wrong.

Redfield's smug expression met Jill's face. The woman looked petrified, and for good reason. She was the big fat splotch of black ink on the clean white shirt that was Albert Wesker. Apple bottom and all, she ranked as high as any guilty habit could from what it seemed to him. "Fucking…priceless."

Jill shifted her stare to the window with a sigh, finally flipping the lid open on the box to eat a few of her feelings before she was fired.

Chris ate every  _fucking_  inch of the past few moments up. "You are hands down the best partner I have ever had." It was the only fitting thing he had to say, and with a shit eating grin on top of it.

Anger swelled, and so did embarrassment, as the cropped haired woman dropped the pastry back in the box. "Yeah, well… I may as well start cleaning out my desk. As soon as you tell people, I'll be fired anyway." Dropping the box on top of a pile of folders, she sighed.

"Yeah, that would be bad if I told people." A sharp sniff and Chris flicked his thumb across his nose. "We're partners, though. Anything you say, I take to the grave. Your business is none of mine. I wish you would have told me though."

Blue wells met deep brown, unable to hide their relief. "I… Thank you, Chris. I didn't…think it was a good idea to tell you. People talk; I don't even know how Rebecca and Ed get away with seeing one another."

Redfield nodded, making the chair creak a few times from rocking in it. "Yeah, you're welcome. You know, I'd go to bat any day of the week for anyone on this team, even Captain Asshole. He and I probably will never kiss and make up, but that's between him and me. All of us try to keep this sort of stuff quiet." He stole a donut for himself. "It happens… You work together for a while; you tend to get close to people. You two had history from before you ended up here. Just don't get yourself hurt, and don't let it affect your job."

Jill nodded, leaning back against the wall the desk was resting against. "I won't. You can count on me, Chris."

Clearing his throat, he had one last thing to add. "I hope you know this means I am going to endlessly fuck with him now."

That caused a brow to rise. "How?"

* * *

Chris had waited until May to answer her question, a gag for the ages.

It'd started with a morning meeting, all of the pens missing from Jill's desk. She searched all over for a writing utensil.

Forest and Chris exchanged a glance as she slipped into the back office during Wesker's pitch. The captain sounded bored, mentioning a few quadrants they were going to check out.

A few lunatics had shot a boy deep in the forest and Irons was convinced the Dawn was responsible. Thank God for S.T.A.R.S. though, as if they didn't already have enough on their plate.

Wesker looked up from his notes, noticing Valentine had stopped rummaging. Through the blinds, he saw her frozen and staring at something found in his desk. Impulse overrode continuing his speech, an itching that something was wrong. "Forest, take over. Miss Valentine seems to have malfunctioned."

Speyer slid from his chair to the podium, waiting until the captain had closed the door. He rested his hands on the sides of the stand. "Now kids, this is karma in action. If you will turn your attention the open blinds in the back, you will bear witness to what scientists call: 'a shit storm in action'."

Many Polaroid pictures of Rebecca in a basketball uniform (complementary of Edward Dewey): forty dollars.

Beer to bribe Brad to hand over the key to the back office: ten dollars.

The look of shock on the captain's face: priceless.

Chris kicked up his feet with a chuckle. He could clearly see Jill holding up several pictures in both hands. "This is the best day ever. Anyone have some popcorn?"

Barry stroked his beard thoughtfully, expression suddenly pained. "Oooh, I know that look. She's about to ask him if there's 'something' she needs to know."

"Yep, there it is." Joseph turned away as the door to the back office opened.

"Please be sure to get a few boxes of pens for your desk from the supply room, Miss Valentine."

"Of course, Captain. I'll be sure to never look through your desk for a pen again." She left, shaking her head as she passed Chris. "You're in trouble."

"I plead the fifth." Redfield tried to keep a good poker face as he watched her leave.

Wesker stepped out of his office, a stack of photos dropped on the table outside his door before he too left. "Someone please return these to Mr. Dewey at their earliest convenience."

Chris tried to contain a snort, his arms folding tight against his chest as he looked up to the front of the office.

Forest hid himself in the only book on the podium: an upside down volume of the phone book. "So, as I was saying…"


	32. Chapter 32

 

_Theme: Fortune Soul- Blackmill_

* * *

_July 4, 1997_

The air conditioning was out in the entire station. Even Irons was out of his cave, stirring up trouble in every office he entered. Tensions were running high enough without heat, most of the staff getting ready for a long night of drunk drivers and 911 calls. It was the worst night of the year for cops in Raccoon City. A muggy workplace, in the meantime, just made things worse.

Three staplers thrown, five yells of 'fuck off', and one printer fried; it'd had been a bad day for everyone in the S.T.A.R.S. office as well. Five 'o clock took its sweet time blessing every occupant of the office with its presence. When it did, the place was deserted aside from a couple stragglers.

Jill let out a deep sigh, shutting down her computer. The heat had made the office so miserable she had stuck a fan on her desk. Papers fluttered helplessly everywhere with each pass of the fan. Everything normally nicely tucked away on her desk was a paperweight if it held against the blow of air.

"Do you still have those statements from the witnesses last week?" Wesker already was digging through the papers on her desk, catching one that tried to make its escape with the fan gusting. The heat had been too much, his dark button down shirt missing and an RPD t-shirt in its place. His hair had finally grown to a normal length, slicked back though lined in sweat from the muggy air of the office.

Sometimes she could see the scar dipping along when he slicked his hair back after a shower. It always made her feel ill.

"No, Joseph took them this morning. He thought he found something useful. God knows where he put them." Wiping her brow, Jill let out a sigh. "I think I'm going to take off too."

"Not enjoying stewing here with me?" His steel colored eyes lifted in favor of gazing at her.

"It's been man smell soup out here all day." She uttered in response with a shake of her head. "I could easily tell who drinks those disgusting protein shakes for building muscle. I'll give you a hint: everyone."

"That sounds…vile. The system should be working again by Monday. Hopefully the smell will improve." Wesker gave up his search; internally agreeing the work day was over. "Have plans this evening?"

His question was met with a sigh. "None, Captain. I think I'll just crawl into a bottle tonight."

He made a thoughtful sound at that, the veil of his persona so common in the office slipping. "I assumed you would have plans with someone."

She regarded him with her blue eyes. "No, the man I've been seeing hasn't said a word about doing anything tonight."

"What a jackass." His nonchalant comment gave way to a cruel grin when the woman laughed. "Well, since you have no plans…" Taking a seat on the edge of her desk, Albert leaned closer. "…and I have no date for the evening… How would you like to go with me to a minor celebration?"

Her dark brows rose at that. "My boyfriend might become jealous."

The word 'boyfriend' would have put William and Annette on the floor. It only brought on an eye roll from the man bearing the title. It had never been one he was accustomed to, and Jill had never uttered the word in regards to him before. Some things just didn't seem to fit him, like a shirt two sizes too small. "I could take him." The giggles followed him to an unoccupied desk belonging to Christopher across from her where a few files were stacked. Upon lifting them, more pictures of Rebecca Chambers spilled out. Another trap sprung in Chris' game. With a heavy sigh, he just left them and the files dropped on top in favor of locking up his back office. "I don't understand the joke."

"I think he was trying to frame you." A white nail caught between her teeth, Jill shook her head and glanced to the clock. Five 'o nine.

"Christ, are we in grade school?"

Turning off the fan, she grinned at his continued airing of disfavoring Christopher's antics. "It could be worse. He could spill the beans to everyone."

Following her to the door, Wesker slid his glasses on. "I'm fairly certain he has, unless Enrico is clairvoyant. He made an offhand comment that almost resulted in coffee dumped in my lap." That incident and everything about the situation was making his skin crawl.

' _You know you should end this. You won't, though. Even if you humiliate her with severing ties initially, you'll go crawling back for another round of sneaking in the dark with her. You're worse than a drunk lusting for a bottle since the bombing at the hospital.'_

That was true… He hadn't missed a night with her since the incident. The nightmares he had certainly put a damper on the idea of being alone. Lisa didn't know how to leave him alone in the dark, her fingers snaking for his throat some nights.

Jill's soft voice gently cooed away a rapid pulse and labored breath. Her soft hands put him at ease once more. Though he would never admit it, only God above knew it, she made him feel safe enough to go back to sleep. When he slumbered again, she was there putting an ice pick through Lisa's skull if the creature emerged for more.

Parts of him loathed the grasp she had, but their voices were becoming fainter with each day that passed. They couldn't compete with her. She loved him, and they loathed him. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who would win in the end.

It wasn't as though he worried about anyone talking outside of their small circles within their S.T.A.R.S. cloister. Both teams were muzzled as far as he was concerned, if one of them went down, so did the other. Nobody wanted to be the one to send Jill packing, even if they had misgivings with him. She was far too sweet, far too willing to take a shift for someone, and Redfield's partner. The man child was a meathead, but he was a good guard dog at the end of her leash.

It was the simple fact that Wesker had made a mistake, caught red handed when he shouldn't have been careless. Blaming his mental state at the time didn't dismiss the error and lapse in judgment. He was a private man, and hardly one that kept someone of her caliber in the eyes of those around him. She was the cut off shorts and whiskey with cola to the many martinis he drowned himself in over the years. Wesker's strings of usual partners were  _sophisticated_  and solemn under their fake smiles and boring stories.

Jill Valentine was a giggle at the funeral that was his life.

Many times, he just wanted to laugh with her.

' _Perhaps that's why I'm so unwilling to throw her away. Despite that unwillingness, she could easily become collateral if the wrong person catches the scent before all of the pieces fall into place and I do not want that.'_

It wasn't as though he was unable to just walk away from it all. He flat out didn't want to. Not now.

' _No. She is mine. After Marcus, after being tossed out of the lab to babysit this group Spencer wants for his idiotic BOW trials in the Cedar District…I deserve to keep something worth all of this effort, if I can manage to not scare her off all on my own.'_

That feeling again, it still didn't deserve a name. He buried it under a trunk in his mind for another day.

Her voice broke his internal berating. "You know, they've actually warmed up to you a little more now." She looked back to him at the door. All she saw was the gray of his eyes.

"How?" He sounded skeptical.

A light shrug was all she had at first. "They like seeing you being…normal? Human? I don't know how to word it. As much as you throw down regulations, codes, and bark for perfection..." She slid her beret on, adjusting it twice to emulate what he had taught her. "It's intimidating working for you. You're a wall of frost that doesn't get to know them. You don't go to the BBQs; you don't hang out with them at the bar. They don't know you. All they know of you is here…and they know that's not all there is to you. I think they just like being able to see that even you have a heart under that chilly attitude."

He snorted and locked the door behind them. "A heart, you say? Now you're just making up cruel lies." A hand gave Jill a push at the small of her back as the pair departed. "I'll see you at seven."

* * *

It was a quarter past eight before the fireworks began shooting off over the lake. Despite the distance from the town, they still could be easily seen rocketing into the heavens for an evanescent burst of light and glittering color above the rim of trees leading into the mountains.

Guided by long fingers coiled around her dainty wrist, Jill ascended the stairs to the roof of Albert's new home. His apartment encompassed most of the fourth floor, but hardly provided a view of the lights showering above Raccoon City. "I thought you said this was a small party." She gave her short blue dress an idle tug at the hem.

The door knob leading to the rooftop groaned, a shoulder shoved against the metal of the door before it gave way and allowed cool and fresh air to blow into the stairwell. Wesker turned his head at her comment as he stepped out onto the rooftop. "It is. I invited everyone I like." There wasn't another soul to be found on the rooftop, aside from them.

It took Jill a moment to wrap her head around his cruel joke. "Oh boo, that'd wound William." She followed his path, tresses of caramel colored hair brushed back with a pass of her hand through her hair. The crackle of fireworks being set off in the streets below soon was followed by the sounds of party goers. Passing the building's furnace exhaust duct, she hurried to catch up to his long stride. A burst of red illuminated her face briefly as she finally caught up. "So… what are we doing up here?"

He didn't bother answering the question verbally, merely gesturing to the wall near the other service entrance to the roof. "We are going to watch fireworks and drink until someone has to call the fire department because we forgot how to get down."

Two lounging chairs and cooler sat between them waited for the pair.

A confused look crossed her features briefly. Jill dropped in one of the deckchairs, accepting a beer offered to her. She had oddly overdressed. Slim feet slid from her black pumps as she reclined.

Albert slid into the other chair, undoing the buttoning on the cuffs of his sleeves before pushing the fabric up his forearms. It was the equivalent to him cutting loose.

Bursts of blue, yellow, and red brightened the night, faint cracks of explosions filled the calm as they settled in.

She was quiet for the longest time, nails ticking against the aluminum can.

Albert noticed. "A penny for your thoughts?"

Valentine shifted her gaze over to him. He was almost ethereal, eyes light wells of silver. She smiled shyly. "This…"

"What about it?" The blonde finally cracked open the can in his grasp, leaning back against the cushion supporting his head. Exhaustion sagged his strong shoulders.

"It's not what I expected with you." She quickly countered that comment. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with this. It's…"

"Shabby?"

"… _Nice_ , is what I was going to say." Doe blue eyes chided him briefly with their stare. "I guess my impression of you was always…what I remembered about you years ago." She made an elaborate gesture. "Always so extravagant. So fancy." She couldn't read the look on his face so she downed her beer, not wanting to dig more of a hole for herself. She hadn't at all. His chuckle alerted to her as much.

A clever smirk slipping over his lips, Albert set his sight on the display of bursting lights in the distance. "Extravagant, hmm? You know…sometimes I wish I didn't give that impression to anyone. That whole gaudy, gluttonous, and over the top lifestyle… It's never been part of who I am." The half empty can idly swished in his grasp for a moment as a serious look overtook his features. "I suspect that you feel the same way I do when in those situations, say the social gatherings: like you don't belong."

Jill crossed her arms, a sour expression stealing her previous one away. "I don't belong, and they have no problem letting me know it." A distant thought traveled to her closet and the piles of cheap or stolen clothing she'd accumulated over the years. "It's been that way as far back as I can remember. I used to steal shoes when I was a kid trying to fit in with the other kids. They had parents that weren't paying thousands of dollars for cancer treatment."

He made a thoughtful sound at that, drinking and listening to her story.

The brunette returned to the original subject. "You do belong. You fit the lifestyle like a glove." She scrunched her nose as he snickered. "What?"

"Oh, Jill..." The empty can was crushed between his palms before dropped to the ground. "I do like having nice things. My tastes are more on the expensive side than most." His lingering stare at her long legs was met with a snapping of the woman's fingers to focus. A sly and cruel grin erupted on his features in response. "My liking of things has little to do with my liking of company. Take Irons, for example." He chuckled a bit at the eye roll Jill gave at the name uttered. "I like the sewage treatment plant more than I like him and he makes more money than I do. I've dodged him for three years at the police ball whenever he decided we needed to rub elbows. Money can't buy a personality or make a person better than what they are. Though, I suppose enough of it could make a shit pile look acceptable so long as said pile didn't speak."

She seemed to pick up on it. "So you like wearing thousand dollar suits but—"

"But I'd probably think a man who buys them by the truckload and won't shut up about screwing the help on his yacht is an asinine idiot who should be lost at sea. I hardly care about pedigree. Knowledge is the one true power in the universe. Some people come from nothing and they offer more to mankind than anyone else."

"Like Tesla?" She drew her feet up under her.

A finger was pointed to her. "That is a perfect example of someone who I'd rather talk to in a back alley by a dumpster fire than doing the same with a billionaire airhead over mollusks and cocktails."

Jill laughed at that, bubbly and carefree. She accepted another can offered to her. "Thank you."

The blonde nodded. "So, to answer your confusion… I suppose I'm caught in the void between trash and class."

"Or beyond class, you said you don't care about pedigree."

"If I said that, you'd think I was arrogant." Another can was cracked open. "I just didn't want to go anywhere too," he admitted. "There are far too many idiots loose with explosives for me to be caught dead on the streets tonight."

"You have a point. I'm sure Forest and Chris are lighting bottle rockets between Brad's butt cheeks right about now." Jill snorted at the very idea she proposed.

Albert made a face at the notion. "No, that was last year. I told Vickers if he took a week off again in a burn ward with a burnt ass that I'd fire him."

Jill dropped against the back of the chair, a hand covering her face. Red streaked over her features, endless amounts of laughter filling the air. A deep sigh on his part caused her to laugh even more. "I don't know how you can hate them, they're all so adorable." She managed to say between her giggles, tears in her eyes.

Wesker just shook his head, a pull taken from the drink. "You'd hate them too if you were responsible for them. I feel like I'm Catholic and they're all my children most of the time." He slid the cooler out of the way, pushing his own lounger closer. Dropping the arms of both seats between them, the blonde pulled her close. All he could smell was the jasmine from her shampoo, heartbeat lifting its pace beneath the calm pool that was him. "I suppose that's why I should be grateful you're around."

"You'd think." She replied, rewarded with a pearly smile from her counterpart.

The quiet settled between them after a few more beers, the sky illuminating every few seconds with a bursting luminous flower.

' _I just never pegged him for someone who would willingly watch fireworks and drink beer.'_

Something inside of Jill felt guilty, though she couldn't put her finger on why initially. Perhaps it was the assumption that he was nothing like anyone else… No, it was something deeper.

' _You feel guilty that you judged him as a snob.'_

That may have been it, though she still couldn't be sure. It ate at her. Nose buried against his throat, Jill sighed heavily.

The fireworks in the distance had stopped.

A quick check of his watch revealed it was past ten to Wesker. "Are you tired?" His absent question was met with her legs thrown over his. A sly palm running over her calf received a groan in reply. "Yes, you're tired."

"No, I'm awake." She murmured, feeling a hand slide under her knees and another behind her back. "No, I want to stay up."

"You're beat, I'm beat… it was an awful day." He never wanted to be in that old station without cool air ever again.

"It ended well, though…" She offered, arms looping around his neck while the blonde carried her down the stairwell.

"It did…"

* * *

Between cool sheets, they lay together and quietly talked. The clock silently informed it was past twelve in bold red digits.

"We should rest." Her sleepy voice informed him, nails dragging over muscle in the dark.

Those nails made him think of things other than sleep. He begrudgingly settled down next to her form, an arm pulling her back to him. Albert gazed at her outline in the dim moonlight that cast its rays into the room. Even in the shadows he could see the freckles dotting along the slope of her shoulder, down to the star sprayed sky that made up her chest. His sky, the last one he ever wished to see as long as he dared to live. Mouth pressing kisses between the rises of her breasts, Albert inhaled nothing but her. Her pulse thumped in her throat under the pad of his thumb. Everything he ever wanted was in his arms. The fingers of his free hand found her chin, nose dragging along the line of her jaw as he rose to her level. That feeling wouldn't leave him be. It sat in his mouth like a Dee ring bit made from something that wasn't sweet iron. "Jill."

She made a questioning sound, nearing sleep in her dozing.

Albert hesitated, breath hitched.

' _No._ _ **Don't.**_ _Do not.'_

He painted over the ugly reality of cowardice with dismissal. "Nothing, go to sleep, dear heart."

* * *

_We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. –Plato_


	33. Chapter 33

 

_Theme: Ghosts of Memories—Phaeleh_

* * *

_September 1, 1997_

The forest was chilling, a perfect indication of autumn settling in for another year. Frost bit the morning, rupturing in shards of white crystal until the sun rested its warmth over the region like a blanket. What trees were not of pine or cedar caliber bathed their foliage in brilliant colors of red, yellow, and orange.

A gentle breeze brought dried leaves skittering along the dirt pathway, briefly brushing them over Wesker's polished black boots where he stood. In the distance, his gray eyes silently surveyed the façade of a place he had wished to never see again: the enclave belonging to  _The Dawn of Heaven_. It was a place that invoked memories he wished forgotten.

' _The first time the Dawn was associated with domestic guerrilla acts… we crashed soon after the first pass over the compound. Brad still thinks it was a faulty intermediate gearbox, though we'll never know since the aircraft went up in smoke like flash cotton. After that disaster, Irons refused to sign off on any other operations associating with them. Half a million dollar helicopter destroyed and half of Alpha Team dead…he had quite a bit of egg on his face. The fat man was somewhat intelligent enough to back off the Dawn before the mayor had a stroke all over his desk.'_

It'd taken Albert a few months of black balling the police chief, but finally they were picking up a case that was long overdue closing. The Dawn needed to go away…before they did anything else  _stupid_.

' _Putting these idiots behind bars is only the start. The challenge will be to keep them there. I am certain sitting on the stand, telling the jury how terrible life has been since then will do the trick. Waving pictures of my injuries would be the cherry on the cake. Who knows? They certainly painted themselves as guilty for the power outage at the other hospital. Thirty counts of first or second murder… That doesn't even brush the surface of what Spencer will do to them for even claiming they have the T-Virus. Oh, they dug a grave.'_

A cruel grin twitched onto his features at the thought of horrified expressions on twelve faces, a unanimous decision for lethal injections…It was just the start of a daydream for revenge he'd been chewing on for a few days. A voice rang through the static of the earpiece of his headphone, putting an end to such dark thoughts. Binoculars lowered, he sighed and lifted a finger to his headset's transmit button. "Mister Redfield, I really do not want to have to ask you to cut the chatter again. We are observing  _only_  for now. That requires silence."

Almost six hundred yards away, Chris Redfield had set up post in the camouflage of a deer stand. The local hunters had little issue with S.T.A.R.S. using it for observation. The forest was starting to spook even the seasoned bow hunters from pursuing game in the dim light of early morning.  _The Dawn of Heaven_  had made quite a name for themselves after the hospital bombing: one that even the most hardened criminals in Raccoon City would squeal on them if given the chance. "Yes,  _sir_. I will make sure to keep radio silence,  _sir_. Hah, look to your six 'o clock—two deer banging."

"Can you both be quiet? That'd be great since we're trying to be covert." Jill gave the hand radio a defeated look as soon as she could hear the angry tones of her captain leaking from the speaker to not give an order to her commanding officer. Dumping her radio on the hood of the suburban, she elected to not reply. "Christ, those two are driving me insane today," she murmured. Not even cinnamon coffee that Kathy had sent with Barry could improve her dim mood.

"Yep, they're always fun to work with together." Barry replied from behind a pair of binoculars. The outside of the compound, wrapped in dense forest, was deserted and eerily silent. Not even the usual sounds of an ecosystem were to be found in this part of the mountains. It made Barry uneasy, and he loved the forest. The previous weekend had been the big fishing trip with Enrico and Ed. They'd elected to be on the opposite side of the lake… Nobody wanted to cross paths with the Dawn without an army at their back. Barry was no exception; he had two little ones and a beautiful wife at home. "You know, we'd be better off just getting aerial shots of this place. It looks like a ghost town from out here."

"Irons can't get that cleared, for some reason." Brushing back her hair with gloved hands, Valentine frowned at the map spread out. She silently read Albert's notes that dotted all around the epicenter; the compound itself. A thought crossed her mind, a wonder as to Barry's impression of the police chief. Burton didn't really give off a strong vibe other than being a good dad and set in his ways. "Sometimes I wonder just which side he's on."

"His own. I'm sure you've learned to watch your back around him like we all did. Never put yourself in a situation where you need him to look out for you. He's not fond of women in his police department." Burton lowered the binoculars, picking up the hand radio. "Captain, I've seen more birds than activity. Are we sure they didn't just die last winter? Place looks like it's falling apart."

There was some static before Wesker's voice overwhelmed the speaker. "The possibility that they didn't survive without Anderson is highly unlikely. Most of these people have been off the grid since Rip Van Winkle was a teenager. Keep watching."

Barry let his air out, binoculars set against his eye sockets again. He spoke softly to Jill. "There's a rumor floating around about you and the captain." The bearded man didn't see the point in beating around the bush.

"Oh?" She feigned disinterest, finishing off the coffee. "What did this rumor claim?" The chilly air forced the woman to zip up her coat.

"Nothing that Forest didn't roar was a lie." He side glanced over to her between the gap of binoculars and his eyes. When she began to reply, he cut in very softly. "Don't lie to me. Just be careful, okay? I would hate to see you go away, kiddo. You're a good cop."

' _Chris… and his big mouth…'_

Jill could feel her cheeks flush red as she leaned forward against the hood of the vehicle. "Thanks, Barry."

"You're welcome. I…can't say I've been a saint all my life, and we all have our little secrets. There are no rats in S.T.A.R.S. and we don't take kindly to those from other parts of the RPD. It's still very unprofessional… You're very young, and he… Well he shouldn't have let this happen."

"Probably not," Jill's lips twitched into a small grin.

Sympathy filled Barry's fatherly tone. "It happens, though. Rebecca and Ed… They can tell you firsthand… Usually in teams that are not as tightly knit as we are…there is concern for promotion and other odds and ends. Wesker has never been someone to just hand out a promotion even if he likes the person. You… You brought in that bastard that killed that Kevin kid. That blew me away… I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't see this being a problem as long as… Shit, we've got movement." Already on the radio, Barry handed over the binoculars to the shorter woman. "Look alive, we've got movement."

Wesker's eyes narrowed as the same caught his view behind the lenses. Vehicles and several armed individuals were moving out of the gates. "Copy that. Frost, get as many pictures as you can of those walking before they all pile into their trucks. We need faces." Acknowledged by Joseph, he frowned deeply and continued to watch.

' _Our luck may have just run out. They're going to pull another disappearing act.'_

"Do you guys see that smoke?" Chris' panicked voice came through the static of the radio and sent alarm rattling through the captain's form.

Black billowing clouds met his stare as Wesker's bare gaze lifted. Everything changed in an instant. On the mic, he was already breaking into a jog back down the path toward the S.T.A.R.S. vehicle. "Alpha team, collapse back to the truck. There are too many of them for an open confrontation for us. We need to get inside after the main body leaves. There may be people trapped within." A plausible reason for what would be breaking and entering without a warrant.

"Brad should have the chopper here any minute." Jill called back from the driver's seat of the suburban to Barry who was already opening the rifle cabinet built into the back. The roar of the helicopter's engine overhead was only seconds behind. She jerked at the sudden presence of the captain emerging from the brush. "Jesus!"

His stern gray eyes regarded her. "Apologies, Miss Valentine. Tell Brad to follow them. We already have enough of an emergency on our hands without chasing them." He reached across the dash for a green plastic binder. "Call in the fire, get the K-9 unit notified, and stay with the truck." The binder was rested against her chest.

Confusion lit up her face. "What? Why me? Have Chris stay with the truck!"

"Yeah, turn Xena loose. They'll hear her roar in the next state." Chris rounded the corner of the truck, loading a fresh magazine into his handgun. His grin dropped as the captain turned away with his cellphone in hand. Redfield softly mouthed 'I'm sorry' to the brunette woman before joining the others.

"Chief, it's Wesker. We're going in. They're fleeing and it looks like they're about to burn up any evidence or anyone left behind." Wesker hung up without reply. Removing his Samurai Edge from its holster, he checked the chamber for a round. Gray eyes lifted to meet Valentine's gaze.

Her doe blue eyes tried their best to sway his decision in a silent stare.

Wesker was far from fazed by it behind the black of his sunglasses.

She knew that look all too well. The look of: 'No, stay here and wait'. Defeated, Jill leaned back against the seat with a sigh, flipping open the binder. "Fine, I will radio everything in." She reached for the sheet of radio frequencies the RPD and S.T.A.R.S. both used.

"If we need you as back up, you'll know. I'm sure you'll hear Chris screaming like a little girl." Joseph interrupted, handing over two magazines to the captain.

"Fuck you, Frost."

Finally hauling herself out of the seat, Jill followed at Wesker's heels to the back of the truck. Worry stitched over her features at the boys loading up with so much equipment. "All four of you be careful. If I lose all of you, I don't know what I'd do."

Albert snorted softly, loading magazines into his vest. "Well, Brad is likely to piss himself if we're lost… So, you'll be the captain. We'll probably miss your promotion ceremony if that's the case… Shall we congratulate you now?" His joke was met by a scowl on the brunette woman's part.

If looks could kill…

"I mean it." Jill's growl was met with a whip cracking sound made by Joseph. "Frost, I will kick your ass."

A unanimous sound of 'Oooooh!' ended in laughter.

"Yes Mom, we'll be careful." Chris gave her shoulder a shove before starting down the path ahead of the others. "Come on, ladies! Maybe we can find some hot dogs to roast while we're in there. I'm on point. Last time Cap'n was on point, he got blown up."

"You're as funny as the Special Olympics, Redfield." A half smile offered to the woman was almost instantly dropped at the terrified look on her features. "We'll be fine." Not wanting to wait for a reply, Wesker followed the others down the small trail leading to the now abandoned compound.

Jill could only let out a sigh and return to her 'post' in the suburban's driver seat.

* * *

The four men dispersed from the camouflage of the tree line, slowly approaching the run down compound. The gate that led inside slid easily on well-greased tracks; Barry was able to get it to move with his strength alone.

Chris stepped in first, the business end of his handgun trained forward. Not a soul was found by his sharp gaze. "Clear." He uttered, leading the way for the rest of the team.

Wesker took note of the others as he brought up the rear, trying to ignore the burning stench coming from within the compound itself. Barry seemed alert but stable. Chris…well he was a meathead but ready to take on the world. Frost looked a little green around the gills, but he was steady. Grayed eyes set on the center of the hovel like gated compound, he frowned. A gigantic pyre was ablaze in hot orange flame. Despite those flames…he could make out the silhouettes of two corpses. Stepping closer, he let out a sigh when the others gathered around. One corpse silently screamed and reached for him, flames licking and hollowing its hand out. "That would explain the smell."

Snapping several pictures with the camera, Frost let out a sad sigh. "So much for witnesses… They must have set the blaze as soon as they were leaving."

"Poor bastards. These two have probably been cooking for a while. I don't recall hearing any screams," Barry remarked.

Chris darted a gaze inside the windows of the machine shop upon approach. Beyond the smear of someone's attempt to clean the glass of dirt, he saw nothing of importance. A few junk cars and tools left everywhere. The mechanic had left in a hurry. Looking back to the others, he shrugged and gave the rusting knob a turn. The door whined and squealed its dismay of being disturbed. "Let's see if they have some fire extinguishers. The powder might protect some of the evidence if we can get the fire stopped."

Nodding, Wesker pressed the communication button on his headset as his lips pursed. "Valentine, radio in Forensics while you're at it, we have a 10-45D."

' _That'll give people snooping on police scanners something to shit the bed about…'_

A bit of static, and she responded. "Copy that."

* * *

"Cap'n, you might want to take a look at this." Barry called from the far side of another building before disappearing from view.

Albert's sunglasses shielded his gaze from the harsh glint of sunlight as he moved to follow. Brome grass waved its slim blades and seed pods at him with the wind's blow as he strode down the dirt road. He found both Barry and Joseph struggling with the twin roll away doors at the back. "They have it chained from the inside." Wesker stepped to the darkened gap as the men stopped trying to give themselves a hernia in the struggle. Reaching in, he pulled the lock binding the chain into view. "Just when we need Valentine…" His stare fell to the cement of the building's foundation visible to the outside; dark red blood carving a stream with gravity's blessing from within. "And it seems we have more victims."

The Velcro of a pocket torn open, Joseph pulled out a pair of compact bolt cutters. "Usually use these for lock wire or something small."

The captain let his air out upon viewing them, and then tipped his head toward call over his shoulder. "Barry?" The nail of his thumb raked along his forehead as Wesker slid away. There was nothing wrong with delegating a few tasks.

The bearded man could only chuckle. "Yeah, yeah… Have the old man break his hands trying to do this." Snatching the cutters, he went to work trying to cut the padlock. "Though it wouldn't look very good if our Cap'n was injured, severely, twice in one year while everyone else hasn't even had the flu."

Joseph gave a shrug, arms folded over his chest. "Authority comes with a price."

A blonde brow rose on Albert's face as Chris joined them.

"No fire extinguishers. I didn't want to kick up the dirt or ruin any footprints around the fire either…"

Wesker nodded, head turning at a snapping sound and Barry's quiet cursing. "Smart move, we'll just have to hope those bodies and the crime scene itself give Forensics what they need to put the guilty parties away." A thought crossed his mind, remembering the fire extinguisher in the truck. Valentine hardly sounded enthusiastic about her task when he radioed her, but they had little time for preferences. As the doors were slid away, chains clattered as they fell to the floor next to a body lying in a heap. No pulse found on the fallen man, Wesker fished out his penlight. "Let's move. We're losing daylight. Try to not step on anything important… like him." He gestured briefly to the corpse before moving on.

Flashlights flicked their rays as the men scoured the building in search of…something—anything, really. Nothing grasped anyone's attention for long. A smashed crate littered the floor in wood splinters. Several sacks of fertilizer and boxes lined both the eastern and western wall. It was all too quiet.

' _Nothing but a storage building… Wait, hold that thought.'_

Albert's long fingers shoved aside a dry green tarp, and then ripped it away from what it shrouded. Dust fluttered away in a plume. The blonde was hardly interested in the upturned cardboard boxes, or empty ammunition crates. All were kicked aside. The lift controls station  _was_  very interesting however. The pads of Wesker's fingers brushed over a few labels caked in dirt. He suppressed the power button and was greeted by all nine lights illuminating. From behind his lenses, Wesker regarded the other three. "Shall we go down the rabbit hole?"

* * *

"It makes you wonder how long it took them to carve out this place unnoticed." Barry openly shared his thoughts with the others down in the dark of that hole.

Everyone else mildly speculated the same, flashlights in hand. An occasional flash erupted from the camera.

Running into Chris' back, Joseph almost toppled over; camera and all. "Hey! Keep it moving! …Chris?" Stepping around Redfield, he too was struck statuesque by what lay before them. Frost, however, managed to call back, "Captain!"

Even Wesker hadn't been prepared for what lay within, his jaw edging near its drop over the beam of his flashlight.

' _There have to be…dozens…'_

Corpses littered every wall of the dug-out cave, many piled together like unwanted trash. Women stared lifelessly in every angle, their last horrified moment forever frozen on their faces. Children…their stories were much the same, decay rotting their bodies putrid. Little fingers grasping to their corpse mothers. A single body lay on the marble altar situated in the center of the room, crimson still gliding down the sides of the polished stone.

"God above…" Barry shined his light away and retreated back down the cavern before he vomited on himself. The stench would have done him in had he stood there a moment longer.

Joseph was not far behind, his voice warbled in disgust and anguish. He dumped the camera in Redfield's hands before retreating.

Wesker lifted a brow as the two disappeared. "Maybe I should have left Joseph in the suburban." Trekking across the dugout cavity, ascending the few steps that led to the altar, the penlight shined light where his hand directed. Detachment had its uses and he utilized all it had to offer. He was able to absorb the scene before him, impartially. He could ignore the stench wafting in the air. He could ignore the dead women and children all around him. Something in him wondered just when being able to ignore such things had started. His stare settled on the body, curiosities of his psyche put away.

' _Typical cultist ritual… Blood considered life and a potent offering.'_

The dead woman stared back, her neck adorned in bright red from where the knife had delivered its fatal slice. Her chest was laid open, flesh hanging ragged on her ribcage. A butterfly tattoo adorned her left breast.

He could have sworn her lips  _moved_.

' _Anderson may not have been lying. If they really did have the T-Virus…'_

A chill rolling down his spine, Albert was suddenly enlightened to the nature of his surroundings. He could feel the worst case scenario begin to claw its way into reality.

_**Dozens of bodies…** _

The snap of a picture taken by Chris popped in the rancid air with a bright flash from the camera's lamp. The brunette even leaned in close to one of the decayed faces to capture every gruesome detail. He backed off and moved to another to capture more on film. Sometimes, Chris wished Joseph had a stronger stomach for this sort of thing.

Wesker just wished he'd called in sick that morning.

' _A fucking trap… We'll be eaten alive.'_

Long fingers moved to the knife on his person. First one to go would be the woman on the altar. She was fresh. She would be the one to move most fluidly and quickly. Wesker's head turned, Chris' voice drawing his attention to across the room. "What?"

"There's something behind these bodies." Redfield hardly looked solid as he carefully pushed aside one of the bodies. "It looks like a long wire bundle." He lifted the bundle, dirt sloughing off to reveal the length. It ran the length of the room, under more corpses.

Without so much as a warning, something small and dark leapt from the woman's mouth at the blonde man standing over her with a morbidly clicking hiss.  _All it knew was hunger…_

The blade rolled easily in its owner's hand, sticking the projectile little monster right between the jaws and punched through its dorsal region. Not even a drop of blood spilled.

Wesker's expression was solid granite as he gazed at what had skewered itself at the end of his blade.

The mutated leech would have been quite surprised, if it had a brain, when it found itself impaled on a black and serrated knife. It was fast, but its prey had been faster. The grotesquely large creature could only writhe and click angrily as it succumbed to its wound.

Albert's eyes widened only briefly.

' _It's as big as my fist…'_

Even in the twilight of its existence, the leech tried to bite down on the blade fixed between its jaws. The emblem of S.T.A.R.S. stenciled in gold became drenched in red with each thrash of struggle.

The S.T.A.R.S. Captain's face was unmoving as he examined the dying animal in the dim light. It was a living reminder of a time before. Marcus and his fucking leeches were the most inhospitable mentors that ever existed. He was merely a pupil back then and dissecting these things was a daily activity.

' _At least your reflexes remembered how to kill the damn thing.'_

He gutted it into two, drawing his knife through the vital organs before slipping the blade back into its sheathing. The tail remained intact, and he held it by that alone.

' _So… that's how they got the T-Virus. They stole Marcus' research somehow… The training facility is only four miles from here, but I thought everything that old fool worked on was moved to the Hive.'_

Chris approached silently, eyes dialing to the size of dinner plates as he came to a halt. "What the fuck is that?"

"Evidence," Albert's stare met the brunette's from the rim of his glasses. "I hope you brought a bag for this."

The brunette nodded, rummaging through the cargo pockets on his vest. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure Barry and Joseph have filled all of theirs like airplane bags." He looked like he could taste something awful as the captain dumped the blob of black and brown into the bag. The remnants of this  _thing_ left a slimy trail of translucent goo streaked in crimson. "What is it?"

"I don't know. It was in her mouth. It could be a salamander with a big tumor or a bloated toad that rotted. Your guess is as good as mine." Wrist giving a flick, Albert rid his digits of what the animal had left behind on his hand. The itch to flee was becoming overwhelming. He knew full well the blood bath that would ensue if any of these bodies began to reanimate. Years of planning…wasted. Then there was her…

' _I'm sure when they find you half eaten like a Spam sandwich that she'll kick your corpse and curse you for an idiot.'_

"We should get back to the surface."

No argument from Chris. His head lifted suddenly, brown eyes narrowing as a brow wrote its concern in flesh knitting expression. "Do you hear that?" His fingers sealed the bag. "It sounds like a music box…" The younger man jerked his head toward the blonde, seeing nothing but chilling calm on Wesker's face.

Fear lit like lava under that calm. "Run." The captain's command hardly needed repeating.

Barry coughed harshly, dumping a used evidence bag aside. "God, I don't think I'll ever eat again."

Joseph, leaning against the control console, lifted his sweat and grime covered head as the sound of voices caught his attention. "Is that Chris?"

The two men were almost shoulder to shoulder running toward them at a dead sprint.

Wesker looked unhinged. "FROST! Get us out of here!"

"What's going on?" Barry's question was almost ignored as the two men plowed past him and onto the lift.

"Bomb!" The only word Chris needed to explain. Despite his size, Redfield yanked the burly man onto the lift unceremoniously as it began to ascend toward the top. Fists knocking their knuckles together, his dark eyes fixed their gaze to the light far above. "Come on… Can't this thing go any faster?"

Leaning over the lift console, Wesker popped the copper breakaway wire as he pushed up on the cover shrouding the override trigger. Smashing the trigger and the green button labeled 'UP', he braced himself against the lift's control panel as the entire thing gave a jerk before picking up speed. "Be ready to crawl out of this thing!" He yelled over the motor's roar.

All three nodded their heads, slinging weapons and tucking away whatever else was in their hands.

Eight feet, they could feel a shift in the air.

"We're gonna make it." Joseph uttered, though nobody else seemed as optimistic.

Six, Barry gave Chris a boost to push him out first. "Come on, Frost."

Four feet from freedom and Burton was hauled out by the two younger men. Half gloved hands reached out and drug the captain up as well. The lift was left to come to a stop on its own.

Rummaging a hand over his bandana, Joseph looked left and right to their surroundings. "Should we head back out the way we came?"

* * *

Deep in the dark, the music stopped.

* * *

The deafening blast had all four hitting the dirt. A roar of flame shooting up from deep underground heated the air and painted it in brilliant orange. A moment later, the derailed lift came crashing down on one of the abandoned vehicles parked on the other side of the hole. It caved in the front end before collapsing back onto the cab in a crunch of metal and glass.

Leaning up, Wesker's breathing hitched. Another moment longer and they all would have been barbequed. A high pitched ringing filling his ears to the brim, whatever Redfield yelled next to him went unheard. A sharp pain suddenly ebbed high on his face. Lengthy fingers reached and pulled off his sunglasses. Lenses smashed, they were just about useless to him now. Bits of glass riddled along his eye sockets, red welling where each shard protruded. He dumped the shades right on the floor in anger. On his feet, the blonde surveyed the others recovering. A sound of their impending doom far below may have been hard to hear, but the ground beneath his dirt covered boots vibrating certainly didn't escape his sense of the environment. "We need to move  _now_!" Expecting everyone else to be as deaf as he was, the captain grabbed to the back of Redfield's vest and pulled him to follow.

Barry and Joseph couldn't have been far behind.

* * *

Double doors tossed open, the captain broke into a dead run across the open space of what looked like another mechanic's shop. The smell of gas and grease told him as much. Dark pools littered near gigantic fuel stands, nozzles left on the floor to drip freely. A single door at the far end was all that stood between them and freedom.

' _Don't you fucking dare be locked!'_

If it had been locked, it hardly mattered. The old and rusted door suddenly swung open, daylight pouring in. The silhouette of a curvy form wearing a beret appeared in the doorway.

' _Jill… Thank God.'_

Jill sounded almost irritated with a hand on her hip, "I've been looking-…"

"RUN!" Chris' scream must have been everything the woman needed to hear.

She cleared the door as they all bolted out. The empty fire extinguisher she had been carried was dumped to the ground as Jill followed the other four. They were in quite a hurry; she had to sprint to catch up to them at the front gate. "What's wrong?"

The building they had retreated from exploded a moment later. The concussion of the blast sent glass, from the windows dotting along the front, blowing out like brittle old leaves that caught a strong gust of wind. A single massive fireball rocketed toward the heavens. The sides blew outward in an angry plume of black and orange. The gas in the shop and the fertilizer were both to blame. Wooden walls collapsed in on themselves and burned readily. Concrete previously hidden by a heavy layer of dirt was reduced to black powder as the floors disintegrated. Shrapnel and wood were projectiles flying in every direction. Without warning the entire structure disappeared from sight, sank from countless dug tunnels all crumpling. The wreckage began to ignite and burn.

Completely out of breath, Chris just made a gesture toward the pit of the destroyed structure. A hard gasp taken, he finally found his voice. "That." He stood straight up as the ground began to disintegrate around the other buildings, causing them to fall into massive holes. "They planned this…" He looked to Wesker.

So did everyone else.

The captain's expression hardened briefly. The anger rolling through his system like a freight train pooled below the surface.

' _I had them fucking_ _ **nailed**_ _to crosses...'_

His stare strayed briefly to the camera slung around Redfield's neck. The photos would have to do. "Fall back to the suburban. Who knows what else those lunatics had in store for us," He ordered, voice devoid of emotion.

' _All our hopes rest on Vickers now. We're finally up shit creek without a paddle.'_

The team had no qualms with the order to retreat to the tree line just to be safe. With the ground falling out from beneath the buildings, who knew just how far the Dawn had intended to bury what they'd been up to.

* * *

From a safe distance, they watched solemnly as smoke wisped through foliage before continuing its ascent toward the heavens… and kissed goodbye more evidence than any could shake a stick at. It left a mark on egos and egg on faces.

At the suburban, the team was greeted by the first of the K-9 unit to respond to the scene. Dogs barked from their crates at the approaching strangers.

Jill's face dropped dark the second she laid eyes on the chief among those crowded. Glowering, she looked away toward the wreckage left behind. She felt someone's shoulder brush against hers, the scent of cologne and sweat after. When she turned her head, doe blue eyes softened briefly. "Did someone tell him the cult was giving out free Twinkies?"

Steel gray irises, bare to the world, returned the gesture. "Play nice…" Wesker softly warned before walking toward the party crowded around the K-9 unit's truck.

Jill's brows knit to worry as she watched him walk away. Dried blood smeared over normally tanned skin on his elbow and forearm. The rest of him was covered in dirt from head to toe, much like the other three who had gone in with him.

Albert inwardly sighed as Irons wagged a finger to him on approach, like he was the lard ball's dog to kick. In another life, he would have broken that finger and knocked the mustache off Brian's head. Duty dictated he did not do so in this life. "Chief?"

Irons stood over the map laid out on the suburban's hood. It was akin to watching a goldfish try to read Shakespeare. "Vickers just called in. He lost them about twenty miles out. They were heading north-east." Beady eyes leveling with the captain, he made an amused sound. "I knew this was a bad idea from the start."

Jill could feel how unhinged the captain was underneath his calm expression as she watched his turned away form. Jill wasn't entirely sure how she did… Maybe it was his posture? Standing next to Joseph, she exchanged a look with him before turning her stare back. All she really knew was…

' _This is bad.'_

Wesker had little patience left for being second guessed by someone who couldn't see his toes, let alone catch a criminal. He took his own advice: play nice. "It wasn't all for nothing. We never would have known that they were fleeing or building bombs in there if we hadn't made a move. Plus, we have evidence that they were killing their own members." Nodding toward Redfield, his gray blue eyes held a smug glint. "We have enough photographic evidence to sink their ship. If you wanted every last one of them put in an electric chair, you have your wish now."

Shaking his head, the portly man shifted his glare toward the black smoke billowing on the other side of the trees. "I didn't want more officers lost dealing with these monsters. Vickers chased them out of our jurisdiction, on your order." Leaning up from the hood, he began to wander back to his truck. "Let's just hope they're not coming back. Whatever we've got, box it and put it somewhere we can send to the next town that has to deal with them."

"Is this a  _fucking joke_?" All eyes were on Wesker.

Irons stopped, adjusting his tie for good measure. "No, it's not. I need everyone back in the city before dark. Get weapons checked back in, and everyone sent home. We need to just put all of this out of our minds and worry about the safety of Raccoon City. They're not a threat anymore and we don't have enough tax dollars to be chasing them all over the state. After the fires are out, Forensics will take a look at the place and submit their reports too."

Jill's stare rested on the captain's back. The old nervous habit of picking her nails sprung to life after months of hibernation.

The rest of the team slowly approached.

Irons just had to goad him one more time from the open door of his vehicle. "So, submit your report and go home,  _Al_. You look like shit."

Jaws…dropped. A lone dog barked from his crate.

Wesker's expression smoothed out. His stance spoke volumes, however, fingers curling tight. Irons had ground his last nerve straight into the dirt.

The heavy set man silently challenged him to do something about it.

Cutting in with the poise of a well-rounded dance partner, Jill put herself between Wesker and the truck Irons had hauled himself into. "Captain, we should go."

Albert's frosty stare drilled right down into the woman's core. He didn't need anyone telling him what to do, and indulging her thoughts that she had some sort of  _hold_  on him was not in the cards that very second. "You and I will have a long chat after all of this, Officer Valentine. Please  _assist_  the others in loading the equipment. If I have to tell you again, your evaluation will put you out of S.T.A.R.S. and on the streets. Do I make myself  _fucking_ clear?"

That…left a mark. The color drained from Jill's face, eyes wide as the blonde stepped around her and toward the K-9 unit's vehicle. Embarrassment overwhelmed as she was left gazing at her teammates, red saturating her features.

"That escalated quickly…" Chris commented offhand, trudging toward the suburban.

"Trouble in paradise," Joseph's joke was met with a jab to the arm by Redfield. "Hey, it was just a joke."

Barry gestured for Jill to follow along before her head rolled off her shoulders after being bitten off by the captain.

Her long shadow followed her tread all the way to the team's vehicle, hands jammed deep in her pockets. The hook of her lock pick bit into the tender flesh of her palm as the appendage squeezed it.


	34. Chapter 34

 

_Theme: In Reverence—David Tolk_

* * *

Jill wanted to quit smoking. She wanted to quit as she lit a fresh cigarette with the cherry of a nearly spent one in the smoke shack near the station. Orange littered the frosty gravel transiently before turning dark as she dropped the spent one to ground.

' _I'll do it tomorrow.'_

A few of the guys from the K-9 unit were loitering still, cracking jokes on the benches between grins and fogged breath. Everyone was waiting for the go ahead to go home after one very unfruitful day in the woods. The night air was starting to settle in, sinking cold right into the ground.

Jill shivered, hugging her fleece jacket tighter. The brunette woman caught a glimpse of the rest of her team coming out of the side door. Barry and Chris were sharing a laugh about something. They were free to go, and she was free to make her move.

She was quick to get to her car and out of the parking lot, almost tailgating Chris the entire way out.

* * *

She used a note to end it.

A  _fucking_  note under the windshield wiper of his car, left there before she had scurried off to her home deep in the suburbs to hide.

A note scratched on RPD stationery with a blue pen nearly out of ink in her loopy handwriting:

' _I need a break from you.'_

No apology, no further words. That was it.

Under the calmest expression, Albert crumpled the note in his fist. He uncurled it; reread it again before he smashed it into a ball destined for the dumpster near the exit of the parking lot. An absent wave was offered to Barry as he stood next to his car. He didn't feel empty. He felt…nothing. Indifference was as good as he could do.

' _Fine.'_

* * *

October 24, 1997

"You have to go." Annette pouted from behind a cup of coffee. A heel hung from her toes, swishing absently under the table.

"Why? I don't want to run third wheel to you and William. I don't think any of Umbrella's scientists would appreciate my 'deer in the headlight' look while they tried to explain what their job was either." Jill pushed a few strands of brunette behind her ear. Her own cup of coffee was brought to her lips as she stared out the window into the darkness of a cold autumn evening. Their favorite coffee shop didn't feel the same without being on the patio.

"They're more likely to wheeze and fall over if you spoke to them. You're a woman; they rarely see your kind. Buncha nerds." Annette smirked, setting her cup between them. "Spencer sent you an invitation, right? It would look good if you were in attendance. We don't want to make waves. Also, I thought you might be interested in the new program that the RPD has started thanks to those whacko hillbillies who blew up the hospital. There is a police force forming that is going to start working between the hospital and the chemical plant pulling security." Dull blue eyes regarded the other woman briefly before Annette was searching for another packet of sugar. "They're looking for junior officers to fill the slots. It would be a pay cut… but I thought you might be interested."

Jill's brows lifted in unison. Her voice dropped. "Would that still allow me to help you and Will?"

Annette's lips twitched into a ruby smile. "It would. I mean, you've helped us a great deal the past month already. Burglarizing the mayor's office for evidence without leaving a trace you were there certain surprised us, even though it turned up nothing we could use at the moment. It would give Will and me the opportunity to…make this less awkward since you and Cranky Pants are no longer on speaking terms." She noticed the scowl on Jill's face, but continued anyway. "Spencer is choosing the officers to watch over his investments before he leaves for the winter on his way to Paris. It would be best if you came along and shared your interest with him."

Jill nodded, sipping on the steamy coffee.

"If…you can manage to convince your Captain to let you go," Annette added with a pearly grin.

Jill sighed.

* * *

October 27, 1997

A dark pair of shades kept a look of surprise from being visible when Jill came knocking on the door leading to Wesker's office at the end of the day. The stretch of her silence ending was certainly unexpected, and was met with aloof demeanor. "What?" He asked sharply, hanging up the phone.

Jill closed the door behind her. Her fingers worried over a file in her grasp. "I have something for you."

He reached out for it, only to freeze as soon as he flipped open the manila colored folder and read the header. "You…what?" Shades lowered below his field of view, he read over the fine print. "You're requesting a transfer?"

"Annette told me about the program opening for junior officers to patrol the hospital and chemical—…"

He heard enough, cutting her off without courtesy. "No, I am not letting you go." Something in his voice couldn't be hidden: greed. He was already notorious for hording his officers, and she was no different.

' _The fact that we shared a bed…'_

The file was dropped on the desk unceremoniously. "We need you here."

"We or you?" Jill asked, her voice flat as week old coffee.

His mouth moved to say something, only to stop. Long fingers flipped open the folder again, reading over the letter pinned inside. Albert hit the third sentence before his glasses were set on it and he regarded her features with his stare. "You called it off for absolutely no logical reason. You needed a break, but I don't do  _breaks_  so it was over."

"You embarrassed me. You've made a bad habit of embarrassing me, and I've thought about it for a while. It all started after you were hurt." Jill sat down on the leather couch crammed against the wall across from the desk. "This time, I was just trying to stop you from turning Irons' face into a Halloween mask."

"Oh, now you give a shit about him?" Sarcasm laced his voice tightly as Albert turned another page, reading more.

Jill smoldered. "No, I cared about you. I cared about you getting into so much trouble you couldn't dig yourself out of it. I saw how pissed off you were. I couldn't let him keep poking you with a stick. What you did to me in front of the team…" The woman cast a glance to the wall of cabinets. 'A-B' stared back at her in tight text on the locked drawer.

He made a sound, somewhere between amusement and annoyance. "I treat you exactly as I treat every single officer on my team. You are no different than any of them. The fact we were sleeping together didn't warrant special treatment. I thought you knew me better than that." The sound of papers filled the void of silence as her read through her resignation packet. Wesker reached to the pocket of his shirt, clicking a silver pen as it was in his grasp. "Your reason for requesting a transfer is blank."

Jill wilted, a leg thrown over the other as she sighed and met his gaze. "You know damn well why I want this transfer."

"I need a reason fitting to go on paper, Miss Valentine. A lover's quarrel will not work as a valid excuse." Gray eyes softened, the silver writing utensil slowly rotating between his long fingers.

She cleared her throat, looking away. "I'm sure you can come up with one."

He grinned, pearly and dangerous. The silence that hushed the air between them was electrified. His words broke the sound of a pulse in her ears. "I can't think of one."

The mockery in his voice lit her face red. Jill scowled, cracking under the pressure of a tightrope she wasn't prepared to walk on alone. "Please don't do this to me."

His back came to rest against the chair, the pen dropped and forgotten on the papers. "I need a valid reason."

Jill's head canted, face shifting stone cold. "How about: 'My boss is a flippant dickbag'?"

Wesker snorted, amusement engulfing his features. "Oh, Jill…" A sigh released and he slid to his feet. "Come up with a plausible reason for a transfer and I'll sign it. Until then, please do not bother me with this. There can be no signs that this is anything but normal."

She fumed, glaring up at his face with her blue wells. "This is your fault. You put your ego before everything. Before us."

Albert's expression leveled, hands coming to rest on either side of her on the leather couch as he sank down to eye level with her. "It's my fault you ran?" He asked softly.

They were close enough she could smell nothing but his cologne. She shrank only to find her space invaded further. All her eyes beheld were gray irises and a smirk. Her heart thumped in its cage, fearful. She had no real answer to his question.

"I would have apologized after I regained the ability to see straight again. I suppose it doesn't matter in the end. You left, you wanted to run. Concern over your wounded ego played out as more important than anything between us." The edges of his mouth twitched as she looked away with a scowl. "Perhaps I was always more than you could ever handle." The blonde retracted, rising to his feet once more. "Give me a good reason. A damn good reason will get you out of S.T.A.R.S. and on your way to pulling security elsewhere. I would recommend some…counseling for this trust issue you have. You'll find life much easier when you learn to put down the walls and let someone in."

Jill swallowed hard, her eyes lifting to follow the emblem stenciled on the back of his vest through the blinds as he left his office.

* * *

October 31, 1997

Another party William really didn't want to attend. St. Michael's Clock Tower's haunting appearance did give a perfect setting for a Halloween gathering, though. From the second floor of the lobby, he could see all who were arriving. Mostly Umbrella employees, but the night was still young. It was only after seven. Still, a masquerade wasn't exactly William's idea of a good time. Ten years ago, these things were fun… Now, they were just another check mark in the block.

' _Maybe I'm just turning into a disenchanted old man… like Spencer. Hah.'_

William scratched a nail along the length of his nose, under the felt of the simplistic and silver masquerade mask shadowing his chilled blue eyes. "There have to be more than just a hundred people here." His stare diverted to Annette, ribbing her with his elbow. "Can we call the Fire Marshall on this event and crash it?"

Mrs. Birkin's lips slid into a wide grin under the black and feathery mask she wore. It matched well with her dark cocktail dress. "I was thinking about hitting the fire alarm after midnight to just to hear the banshee shrieks over the sprinklers kicking on." Her husband's arm warm around her shoulders, she laughed. "We're so terrible."

"Nah, we're great. Everyone else is just a stick in the mud. I love you," A kiss pecked over Annette's pale cheek, William clicked his gaze up as a figure came to stand next to them. "We thought you weren't going to show up."

Jill's doe cornflower eyes shifted to the pair, smiling warmly. "I couldn't find a mask to wear." Brilliant bubbles tickled her lips as she took a sip from her lute.

Annette slithered out of her husband's embrace. "They have some in the drawing room. Come on; let's get you fixed up before they're all gone."

As the two women departed down the stairs, William shifted his attention to watching the people coming and going around the floor below him. He recognized one man with shaggy hair cutting a path through the crowd.

' _There's John.'_

His stare narrowed at the sight of a dark haired woman donned in brilliant red following behind.

_Ada._

' _What is she doing here?'_

She must have felt his gaze upon her, eyes lifting to meet the veteran scientist's own.

Will threw back the rest of the drink in his glass before turning away.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

The crowd was absurdly large. Even so, people shifted out of the way as Albert stepped through. In a sea of masks, he wore none. He didn't have time for silly games, silly masks, or silly people. He found Ada standing near the bar, her long fingers waving for him to join her.

"You look rather bristly this evening." Ada stated, guiding tresses of black away from her cheek to expose an ear.

"Scotch," He barely gave the bartender a chance to greet him. "Where is he?"

"John is using the restroom at the moment. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Wesker's stationary expression was hardly phased by her question. "We don't have much choice, Ada. If we are ill prepared, we may miss the bid and kiss our only opportunity goodbye if your sources in South America are not lying."

"They weren't lying. Ozwell is preparing."

"Then it is now or never that we bring him on board. Between him and William this should go much quicker."

Ada sipped at her martini, diamond glittering from her earlobe. "Don't rough him up too much."

Albert smirked, glass gathered from the bar. "I'll consider it." He glanced over his shoulder, finding William at his back. "Restroom."

"We're doing this now?" Concern strung through Birkin's voice.

"Be gentle, boys." Ada said with a long sigh. "I do enjoy his company." Sauntering away from the bar, she disappeared into the crowd in mere moments.

Wesker and William exchanged a look.

* * *

One minute John Clemens was trying to take a leak. The next, his skull was smashed into the brick overlooking the urinal he was using. A roar of pain and he crumpled onto the floor in a heap.

"Did that hurt, John?" A familiar voice asked.

John moaned in pain, both hands cradling his head. A solid response of 'Yes'.

"Glad we have your attention." Another familiar voice.

"Wesker?" Confusion and fear littered John's voice as his eyes opened. He was greeted with the barrel of a gun in his face. "Oh God… he sent you two to kill me."

Neither one of them spoke.

"Just like Marcus…"

Wesker clicked the hammer back on the pistol.

"Something like that," William lit a cigarette, sighing deeply. "We need to talk in very few words about what is going to happen next."

John's stare went to the door.

"It's locked." Wesker's deadpan tone reached all four walls of the small and dark restroom.

William continued. "The research you're supervising, it's nearly at a snail's pace these days."

"We've hit a snag—"

"Shut up." Wesker barked.

"It's barely moving and you know how results are the only way to survive in this field."

"I've been working around the clock."

"Really? Why are you here if you're working around the clock?" Albert's patience was wearing thin.

"I…Look, I'll be honest with both of you. My research staff is less than desirable." He got to his knees only to have the barrel of the gun put to his temple. "I… I need help to get it moving again. These new researchers… They're terrible. All of them trying to stab one another in the back to get ahead… no work is getting done. I can barely get a master petri dish made without someone being injured."

Wesker and Birkin exchanged a look.

"If I had you two… I could get a lot more done."

William stepped away, considering the proposal, smoke blown out his nose. "We could help him."

"We weren't sent to help him…" Albert reminded in the midst of their farce.

Birkin regarded Wesker from over his shoulder. "He's not an idiot, Albert. If we could help him, it'd make all three of us look good. You haven't been in a lab in ages. When do you think you'll be on the chopping block? Can't beat your usefulness running out any more than someone in the lab can."

Albert's stare narrowed.

William moved to the sink, washing his hands. "If you could compile all of the test data on hand and get us samples to present to Mr. Spencer for a bid that he's entertaining the idea of partaking in… maybe we can persuade him that your life is actually worth something, John."

"I thought the bids weren't even going to—"The barrel ground against the side of Clemens' skull, silencing him.

"Plans change, John. You know that." William's calm voice held an almost ominous tone as he spoke.

John nodded several times, blood weeping from the blow along his hairline.

"We have until May to make this look like a suicide, John… Be sure to get this to us before then. You know the drill, not a word to anyone." The barrel recede, hammer clicked back as Wesker stowed the pistol to the holster hidden inside of his jacket.

"I will. Thank you." John whispered with tears in his green eyes.

"Clean yourself up too." William tossed the towel from the sink to the man with a smirk.

Wesker unlocked the door. "Have a good evening, John."

John didn't start weeping until he was sure they were gone.

* * *

"Well, that takes care of that." William said with a sigh. "Dangerous move, though."

"Smartest move," Albert replied, walking shoulder to shoulder with the shorter man. His stare regarded William as the shorter man donned his mask again. "I can't believe you're wearing that thing."

"What? It's a party. Not everyone is a stick in the mud like you."

Blue eyes narrowed their stare as Albert caught a glimpse of Annette approaching from the crowd. Behind her, a woman doused in black followed. He had no response for William's jab. His stare could not be ripped from the mask on her face. Black, raven wing black, and birdlike. It almost could have passed for a plague doctor's mask, though was entirely too feminine. The eyeholes revealed a pair of blue wells. Clearly it was Valentine.

With a quiet excusal, she slid past the trio, wandering into the crowd nearest to the piano room.

Albert would have been a liar to say her sudden absence wasn't bothering him in all the wrong ways.

"Boys, I just saw John leaving. He looked rather disheveled." Annette commented.

"He had a little accident in the bathroom." William sneered. "Nothing to be concerned about. Right, Al? Al?"

Wesker too had disappeared into the crowd.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

"Still, we will let all this be a thing of the past, though it hurts us, and beat down by constraint the anger that rises inside us.  
Now I am making an end of my anger. It does not become me, unrelentingly to rage on."  
-Homer, The Iliad

Theme: Last Night in Loz Feliz- Niia

Lit in golden color from the globed lampposts dotting the walkway, the courtyard was dressed in its very best for a chilly autumn evening. Warm red and orange leaves littered around the trees bathed in like coloration. The courtyard's occupants ranged from small clusters of masked party-goers gathered in tight circles to a loose crowd gathered around one poor soul that couldn't hold his liquor. Between jeers and chuckles at his state, he purged into a bush.

A sigh was far from contained as Wesker peered across the half empty courtyard. Bristling, as someone rested a hand on his shoulder, his eyes met a familiar dark pair.

"Don't stay up too late looking," Ada softly teased, breaking eye contact only to glance at John marching down the walkway.

Eyes narrowing, the blonde started to say something only to receive "I don't want to hear it," from Ms. Wong as she sauntered off after her boyfriend. A bemused sound escaped Wesker, eyes drifting their stare toward another open doorway in the courtyard. The light spilling out revealed only more masked guests enjoying the evening.

He was too distracted to pass judgement on their appearances and utter drunkenness.

'Where, oh where would I go if I was a wilting Valentine?'

A few stares met his from one of the groups, though they soon returned to their idle chatter. A hand slipping into his jacket, he retrieved a half spent pack of cigarettes. One readily slid from the small opening and was lit via a silver Zippo. Clapping the lid to the lighter shut, he stowed both. His glace shot up at the sound of footfalls approaching, though nothing more than the usual indifferent expression rested on his face at the sight of an unfamiliar pair of women. Both in green, their theme was something to the effect of floral and ivy.

The red head shot him a wink.

"Good evening, ladies." Stare shifting away at their giggles, he checked his watch. A glance toward the clock tower itself and he found both within sync. A flick of ash, smoke and fogged breath mingling on exhale, and Albert found himself staring at the darkened mouth of the entrance to the courtyard.

'Why am I bothering? If she so desires to be her own destruction, it is no concern of mine. Why waste my precious time?'

Two minutes passed. He had no answer to that question. A long drag, and he sighed again. Another check of the time.

Stalling…

The clock struck ten, the tower's bells sounding in the chill of the night air.

'You're fooling yourself again.'

Mouth pressing into a thin line, he shook his head and disposed of the cigarette. A hand raking through his platinum strands, Wesker began digging in his pocket for his car keys. The final bell tolled as he fished them out and headed toward the entrance.

Passing the open doors of the dance hall, the sound of a piano caught his ear.

Moonlight Sonata.

Chilled eyes rolled.

'As if I needed another reason to desire being struck deaf...'

A few off keys played caught to the air.

A laugh following after.

Wesker stopped.

"No, no… You don't need to rush through this song, my dear. It is supposed to be slow. It is supposed to be as solemn and serene as the moon itself." Hand rotating as he articulated his take on the classic tune, Ozwell smiled at the young woman seated next to him at the bench of the ink black piano. "It sounded wonderful until you began to rush. Now, try again." An elbow resting on the edge of the onyx painted wood, Spencer's golden ring flashed in the light.

Long fingers shrouded pristine white keys.

A black bird mask went ignored resting atop the piano, glittering in faux gloomy jewels.

The crowd that had gathered to watch fell into a hush, masked faces curiously peering.

The opening notes wandered from each key pressed, spreading their tones to every wall. The tones that followed after exerted the haunting melody.

The old man's lips curled into a grin. "Good… Very good." His attention shifted as Victoria stood behind him, her hands resting upon his aged shoulders. "Ah, I was hoping you would be back to hear this."

The blonde woman smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against the cheek of her husband. "Miss Valentine is a wonderful musician. How could I afford to miss this?" Victoria's pale eyes shifted to the sheet music, leaning in to turn the page.

A white and shy smile flashed, Jill walked her fingers across the keys. "I try." In the wake of her song, she was blessed with gentle applause from the crowd gathered around.

"Marvelous, Jill. Keep it up and you may find yourself selling out music halls on your own Steinway."

The feeling of a cold palm on her shoulder, and Jill watched Ozwell and his bride depart. She would wait to speak to him about the job.

The crowd of curious spectators followed after, making their way back into the main hall and beyond to the rest of the building. Laughter and a low roar soon filled the void.

Sliding off the bench, the bird mask was swiped from the piano's top. The idea of following everyone else back toward the party wasn't inviting. She had planned to catch a ride with William and Annette…

'And in order to find them I would need to waltz back in there and navigate a sea of people.'

The door to the chapel stood open as Jill gazed to her left. She hadn't been in any sort of house of worship since her mother's death. The memory sunk in her gut.

'Can kill some time in there, anyway… There might be a phone and I can just call a cab.'

Heels clicking against the marble floor, she stepped past a decorative plant situated a hair too close to the door leading into the chapel. A long rug, plush and crimson, greeted her feet as she walked in. The chapel itself was quaint, lit in golden light by lamps and candles. It reminded her of old places of worship found in history books.

A place where huddled masses hid from plague and war.

'An odd throwback…'

The altar itself appeared old, cloaked in blue. The fabric was unpleasant to the touch, old as well. Mildew was stiff in the air.

Wells of blue lifted to the tabernacle behind the altar.

She tried to recall just what was kept inside the fixed box…

…As the door to the chapel audibly shut.

Jill exhaled through her nostrils.

Footfalls could be heard, muted by the carpet.

'Just someone checking out the chapel too…'

She knew better than that, though. Try as she might to fool herself… until she could feel the heat of another at her back.

A familiar scent.

Breath at the nape of her neck stole her own.

"What do you want?" She choked out when strands of brunette were brushed behind her ear. The diamond stud in her lobe glittered in the warm light.

The question went ignored, a mouth close to her ear. "It feels as though it has been a long time since we were last alone…" A voice replied, velvety and familiar.

Jill glanced briefly over her shoulder.

Wesker.

Amusement was strung across his features. Eyes bare of their usual shroud.

She didn't share in the amusement, expression indifferent and her body stiff.

'What is so goddamn funny?'

It was almost as though he could hear that question. The smirk vanished as he spoke. "William and Annette left."

A heavy sigh exerted, Jill swore under her breath. Her stare turned toward the stained glass of the windows behind the altar "They probably thought I left."

"That sounds likely… You do tend to disappear without notice when you're sulking."

"I am not sulking."

"Mm…" His long fingers splayed over her shoulders, dragging along the slopes lazily. Wesker's stare following her own to their reflections in the windows, brows raising. "Of course not. You're aimlessly trudging through the world for no reason." When no reply came, he prodded further. A digit running along where fabric met the milky skin of her back.

She twitched.

He smirked. "Dressing as though you are on your way to your own funeral."

She shot a glare to his reflection. "And you're dressed like you're ready for that funeral."

Perfect and pearly white teeth uncovering was his only answer to that. He would have been a liar if he claimed he had not missed her humor. His fingers slid back to her shoulders, thumbs rolling over tensions that words could not ease.

Jill's shoulders relaxed, head sinking. She thought she could hear rain outside. The brunette could have easily told him to stop.

He knew that and he would have.

She knew she should tell him to stop.

He knew that too.

The clock on the wall chimed.

The silence between them bothered her too much, blue eyes lifting to him in the reflection of the window once more.

He caught her stare. "What?" The question was quiet.

"Can I tell you something?"

Expression smoothing over, he nodded. "Anything."

"It wasn't just you—us. You know?"

A perplexed expression was the only response she was given.

"It was the pressure of work. It was losing Dad. Everything was weighing me down. So much fucking baggage."

"What transpired between us was the baggage you decided to discard of to stay afloat?"

She refused to dignify that question with a response, so she changed direction. "I can't keep doing this…"

Lightly colored brows raised. "Doing what?"

"This. Us… Whatever the fuck we are and whatever the fuck this is that we keep doing to each other." She swallowed back the desire to point fingers over the broken remains of what they had been. "I can't keep going in circles. I can't fight you anymore."

The blonde made an amused sound. "Then stop fighting me," the words spoken were barely above a whisper. His hands dropped, the moment tarnished by reality. "I did have a question…" He dug through his pockets for a half empty pack of cigarettes.

Perching on the altar, Jill found herself staring at her shoes. Black Mary Janes. "What?" The flick of the lighter caught her ear and she glanced up to him when silence overtook.

Smoke rolled from his lips, ash flicked right onto the floor. "Have you spoken to Spencer yet?"

She shook her head, arms folding across her chest. "No."

"When do you plan to?" His stare pitched to the clock on the wall. It was getting late.

"Before I leave tonight…"

Graying blue hues gazed toward her sidelong. "Don't." When a sigh was the only response he received, Albert stowed the lighter and package of coffin nails he wished he could quit. "Tell me… Who murdered your father?"

A lump in her throat, Jill's stare dropped. "Irons." Like she could forget.

"That's correct. You found his hands in that fat moron's little chamber of horrors. And… who does Irons answer to?" The effigies on the walls behind the altar caught the blonde's eye.

"Spencer."

More ash flicked on the pristine rug, Albert looked back to the woman. "The further you run from me, the less protection you have."

Brows knit, Jill began to protest. "But Annette—"

Wesker's expression twisted to disbelief. "Annette? Annette doesn't live your life, Jill. She is well protected by her husband, who is the most brilliant scientist alive today." His voice lowered, like he was telling her a secret. "Nobody would touch Annette Birkin if they valued their life or the lives of everyone they ever knew. You…" His expression turned to nothing less than stone. "…do not have such a luxury."

Confusion littering her face, she attempted to protest again "But she said—"

"Wake the FUCK up, Jill!" Patience: gone.

She visibly twitched, eyes as big as dinner saucers.

"Have you completely forgotten just how fucking dangerous these people are? They put your father in the ground without a second thought. They'd do the same to you right before going to finish a round of golf at some godforsaken country club. You are a loose end if you are not useful. Don't you see that?"

No response.

The cigarette was stamped out on the floor, some composure restored upon exhale. "Don't get me wrong. The Birkins are the closest thing to family I will ever have. They are brilliant in their own realms. Annette can accurately diagnose patients who are afflicted with parasites better than any other person in her field. William? He could tell you everything about a virus and you would understand it just as well as he does. He is a remarkable teacher and that pales in comparison to the kind of researcher he is. William and Annette have been under Spencer's protection since they were teenagers, they do not know what it is to be outside of their bubble. Everywhere in the world they have gone, they have had the finest of everything. They are far more valuable than you are, and you need to remember that."

Still no response, the foible of picking at her nails had returned.

"You have lived a sheltered existence prior to Raccoon City as well. That is something I could forgive if you weren't making such a scene. You moving all over the chess board draws too much attention to us. You threaten everything your father worked tirelessly, and sat in jail, to stop. You have spat on all of his work every time you throw a tantrum."

That would leave a mark. "How dare you." Blue wells turned glassy as Jill's mood soured. "This, right now, is you throwing a tantrum that I am leaving. Hiding it under a pile of bullshit and lies doesn't fool me."

"Don't flatter yourself. I could replace you in a matter of minutes."

"Then do so, and leave me alone."

Wesker pressed further, not ready to allow her another word in until he decided when she would speak. "Do you think this dramatic behavior is doing you any favors? Bitching and moaning over a petty spat you had with me to Annette? Do you think that builds her confidence in your skill or do you see the reality of the situation? I think it likely leads her to believe you are incompetent, immature, and a perfect candidate to take the fall if she needs you to. Do you really believe your friendship with her is protection?"

No response from Valentine.

"Even William finds your recent behavior to be a distraction, though is far more forgiving considering that you are an asset despite it. It was why you were approached to move elsewhere at great and unnecessary risk. A risk I am not willing to take. They may have a soft spot for you, but I assure you…" His lips turned into a grin. A nasty one. "You should not make the mistake of thinking for a second that William and Annette wouldn't let you hang out to dry if you became a liability to them."

Adjusting the hem of her dress, Jill shifted uncomfortably.

"Allow me to make another thing clear to you: expect no different from me."

She dared to look up at him towering over her, red rimming her glassy blue eyes. Shock littered her expression.

"Don't look so surprised or hurt. You know what this life is and the danger we are all in. You have done quite a remarkable job of taking options away from me. You of all people know what the world looks like when I have no choice. Perhaps you didn't understand the gravity of the choice you made when you said you were in this with us. Now you do understand, though I maintain you should have known better." He paused, glancing back to view the door before returning his stare to her.

"You are a bastard."

He shook his head. "That is a moot point."

"Is it always like that? Easy to cut someone loose when you cannot control the situation?"

'Is it easy to kill, Albert?'

His expression was unreadable. "I could ask you the same ridiculous question, but I will refrain. No, it's never easy. Necessity does not allow for personal feelings, however. Doing what is necessary is how I have survived this long. You will have to detach yourself from your feelings if you plan to survive this with me."

'With you?'

The brunette shook her head. "I don't want to just survive."

Ashen eyes became tranquil, though only briefly. "I know that. A day will come when we are no longer surviving and we can live as we like. We have to get there first." Hands on either side of her on the wood of the altar, his face was mere inches from hers. "That is why from here on out you will stay put and do exactly as I say."

Jill frowned deeply, daring him with her eyes to gain compliance for such a demand.

Wesker sighed, recognizing that expression. His own softened considerably. "You have every reason to be furious at me and I can live with that. I need you to trust me." Long fingers slid to her chin, drawing the brunette's stare back to him when she looked away. "Trust me again and I will never fail you."

Her gaze narrowed. "Is this you trying to apologize?"

He paused, lips pressing into a thin line before he spoke. "What if it is?"

Her stare shifted away toward the far wall. "If it is, you'll need to give me more than pretty words."

"Name it."

A shake resonated through her sigh before Jill spoke, fingers worrying themselves to the bone. "Let me go work with this new squad that concerns itself with keeping the peace between the plant and the hospital."

Albert sighed, his thumbnail running along his hairline briefly. "You seem to think that this position is a cure all for your problems no matter what I tell you. Aside from everything I said, it's a temporary position until Spencer returns in the Spring. From there, Umbrella will be hiring its own force to monitor the area. Everyone will be returning to the RPD for regular duty at that point."

"It would keep me far away from Irons for a while…" She replied almost mutely as he joined her on the altar. Cornflower hues were glassy as she gazed up at him.

"That's why you want to leave?"

She nodded, wiping away a few tears with the flats of her palms. "As angry as I am at you, it's getting harder being in the same building as that man."

"You're still angry at me?"

Jill nodded again, frowning deeply as his arm wrapped around her smaller frame. "He was baiting you and you almost went for it in your anger. I tried to protect you from the man who took my father from me…and you treated me like dirt for it."

He said nothing. Deep set gray eyes only gazed back at her.

She audibly swallowed, red stinging the edges of her eyes to release more tears. "I wasn't wanting praise for it, but I certainly didn't deserve what you did. You humiliated and threatened me and you did it again tonight."

Still no response from Wesker.

"You pushed me away at a moment when it took everything in me not to turn around and just shoot him."

Blonde brows rose in unison.

She wiped her face again, mascara ruined.

Silence filled the void for another eternity.

The clock struck twelve.

"You live far too much in your head, my dear." The blonde pulled his almost spent pack of cigarettes from his jacket, offering it over to her first. "I had no idea that was what you were thinking."

"I told you this a few days ago." Irritation rattled through her voice as smoke escaped Jill's lips.

"You told me that you were trying to stop me from turning his face into a Halloween mask. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why you would give a shit what I did to him." His stare pitched to the doors at the far end of the chapel.

"That's not what frightens me."

"I know. What you've said tonight tells me enough of what you genuinely fear." He snickered softly after a moment. "Would it be odd if I said it was flattering?"

"A bit." Her lips formed a brief smile. She didn't know why. "Why is it flattering?"

Pearly teeth exposed themselves as his grin broadened. "It would be the first time a woman I'm… with?" A sidelong gaze was passed to her. For a man who took whatever he wanted it seemed certain lines never were to be crossed.

Her lips formed a thin line as she pressed them together briefly, a long drag from the cigarette followed.

Ash was flicked from his on the floor. If he was nervous, he didn't give any inclination.

She nodded.

His lips twitched at their edges briefly, a slight shift in his shoulders would have evaded all but a trained eye.

Relaxed.

"It would be the first time a woman I am with thought it was important to protect me, rather than it being a one-sided affair."

"You're all I have." She uttered softly, leaning into him.

His arm found itself curled about her form once more, and he didn't know what to say to such a remark. His chest smoldered until only black ash was left in the pit of his stomach. Guilt.

It was well past dawn when he opened the passenger car door for her.

His jacket shrouded around her slim shoulders, Jill pressed a gentle kiss against the edge of his mouth. "Take me home…" She uttered softly, sliding into her seat.

Home.

His home.

The door shut snugly, keys fished out of his pocket as Wesker made his way around to the driver's side. Felix the Cat smiled his goofy grin on the keyring between impossibly long fingers.


End file.
